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MR.     PUNCH'S 

MODEL     MUSIC-HALL 

SONGS    &    DRAMAS. 


By    F.   ANSTEY. 


MR.     PUNCH'S 

YOUNG    RECITER 


Illustrated. 
Price    3s.   6d. 


MR.     PUNCH'S 

Model  Music-Hall 

SONGS    &    DRAMAS. 

From    "  PUNCH." 


By   F.    ANSTEY, 

AUTHOR  OF  "vice   \'ERSA."    "  MR.   PUNCH'S  YOUNG   RECITER,"   &C 


With.     Illustrations. 


LONDOX : 
BRADBURY,  AGNEW,  &  CO.  Ld.,  9,  BOUYERIE  ST.,  E.G. 

1892. 


LONDON 
BRADBURY,   AGNEW,   &  CO.   I.D.,  PRINTERS,  WHITETRIARS. 


PR. 

(3  S'Mvn 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Inteodtjction 3 

Illustrations. 


SONGS. 
I. — The  Patriotic 15 

Illustration, 

II. — ^The  Topical-Political 18 

Illustration. 
III.— A  Democratic  Ditty 23 

Illustration. 

IV.— The  Idyllic 27 

Illustration. 

v.— The  Amatory  Episodic 31 

Illustration. 

VI. — ^The  Chivalrous 37 

Illustration. 

VII.— The  Frankly  Canaille 40 

Illustration. 


1486520 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

VIII. — The  Dramatic  Scexa 47 

inxstmtion. 

IX. — The  Duettists 53 

ini<sh-aiio)i. 

X. — Disinterested  Passion        .        .        .        •        •        .59 

lU/fstration, 

XI. — The  Panegyric  Patter 63 

lUustraiion. 

XII. — The  Plaintively  Pathetic 69 

Illnstratio/i. 

XIII. — The  Military  Impersonator 73 

Illustration. 


DKAMAS. 
I. — The  Little  Crossinq-Sweeper 79 

Illustration. 

IT. — Joe,  the  Jam-eater 86 

IllKsfrations. 

III.— The  Man-Trap 93 

IllHstration. 

IV.— The  Fatal  Pin 99 

Illustration. 

V. — Brunette  and  Blanchidine       .        .        .        .        .106 

Illustration. 

VI. — Coming  of  Age 113 

Illustration. 


CONTENTS.  vii 


PAGE 

VII. — Eeclaimed  ! 120 

IllusiratioHS. 

Till. — Jack  Parker    .        .        .        .     ' 132 

Illustration. 

IX.— Under  the  Harrow J  39 

Illustrations. 

X. — Tommy  a^^d  his  Sister  Jaxe 151 

Illustrations. 

XL — ^The  Eival  Dolls 158 

Illustration. 

XIL — Coxrad;  or,  the  Thumbsucker 166 

Illustration, 


[The  Illustrations  are  hy  Edward  T.  Lecd ;   icith  otJiers  from  '' lunch."] 


MODEL    MUSIC    HALL 


INTRODUCTION, 


Music  IIall  Peoprietor. 


INTRODUCTION, 


The  (lay  is  approacliing,   and  may  even  now  be 
Avithin  measurable  distance,  when  tlie   Music   Halls 
of  the  Metropolis  ^vill  find  themselves  under  yet  more 
stringent  supervision  than   is   already  exercised   by 
those  active  and  intelligent  guardians  of  middle-class 
morality,  the  London    County    Council.     The   moral 
microscope   which  detected   latent  indecency  in  the 
jnirsuit  of  a  butterfly  by  a  marionette  is  to  be  pro- 
vided with  larger  powers,  and  a  still  more  extended 
field.     In  other  words,   our  far-sighted  and  vigilant 
County  Councilmen,  perceiving  the  futility  of  delay- 
ing the   inspection  of  Yariety  Entertainments  until 
such    improprieties   as   are   contained    therein    have 
been  suffered  to  contaminate  the  public  mind  for  a  con- 
f^iderable  period,  are   determined  to  nip  these  poison- 
flowers  in  the  bud  for  the  future;  and,  unless  Mr. 
Punch  is  misinformed,  will  apply   to  Parliament  at 
the  earliest  opportunity  for  clauses  enabling  them  to 
require  each  item  in  e^ery  forthcoming  performance 

i{  2 


MB.    FUNCH'S   MODEL    MUSIC   HALL. 


to  be  previously  submitted  to  a  si^ecial  committee  for 
sanction  and  approval. 

The  conscientious  rigour  with  which  they  will  dis- 
charge this  new  and  congenial  duty  may  perhaps  be 
better  nnderstood  after  perusing  the  little  prophetic 
sketch  which  f oIIoavs  ;  for  Mr.  Punch's  Poet,  when  not 
employed  in  metrical  composition,  is  a  Seer  of  some 
pretensions  in  a  small  way,  and  several  of  his  predic- 
tions have  already  been  shamelessly  plagiarised  by 
the  nnscrupulons  hand  of  Destiny.  It  is  not  im- 
l)robable  that  this  latest  effort  of  his  will  receive  a 
similar  compliment,  although  this  would  be  more 
gratifying  if  Destiny  ever  condescended  to  acknow- 
ledge snch  obligations.  However,  here  is  the  forecast 
for  what  it  is  Avorth,  a  sum  of  incalculable  amonnt : — 

POETIC     LICENCES. 

A    VISION    OF    THE    KEAE    FUTURE. 

Scene — A  Committee-room  of  the  L,  C.  C;  Suh-Committce  of 
Censors,  {appointedy  under  new  I'erjulations,  to  rej)ort  on 
all  songs  intended  to  he  sumj  on  the  Music-hcdl  Stage,) 
diseovered  in  session. 

Mr.  Wliecdlcr  {retained  for  tJie  lUdlad-icriters).  The  next 
licence  I  have  to  apply  for  is  for — well,  (with  some  hesitation) 
— a  composition  "which  certainly  borders  on  the — er — amorous 
— but  I  think,  Sir,  you  will  allow  that  it  is  treated  in  a  purely 
pastoral  and  Arcadian  spirit. 

The     Chairman     (gravel  jj).       There     are     arcades,    Mr. 


TNTRODUCTION. 


Wheedler,  I  may  remind  you,  which  are  by  no  means  pastoral. 
I  cannot  too  often  repeat  that  we  are  here  to  fulfil  the  mission 
entrusted  to  us  by  the  Democracy,  whicli  will  no  longer 
tolerate  in  its  entertainments  anything  that  is  either  vulgar, 
silly,  or  offensive  in  the  slightest  degree.  [Apinlaiisc. 

Mr.  Wheedler.     Quite  so.     With  your  permission.  Sir,  I 
will  read  you  the  Ballad.  [/wv/r/.s-. 

''MOLLY    AND     I. 

*'  Oh  !  the  day  shall  he  marked  in  red  letter " 


The  Chairman.     One  moment,  Mr.  Wheedler,  {conferriufj 
icith  his  colleagues).     ''Marked  wdth  red  letter" — isn't  that 

a  little — eh  ?    liable   to You  don't  think  they'll  have 

read   Hawthorne's   book?     Very   well,    then.      Go   on,    Mr. 
Wheedler,  please. 

Mr.  W,     "  'Tvvas  warm,  with  a  heaven  so  blue." 

First  Censor.     Can't  pass  those  two  epithets — you  must 
tone  them  down,  Mr.  Wheedler — much  too  suggestive  ! 

Mr.  W.     That  shall  be  done. 

TJie  Chairman.     And  it  ought  to  be  "  sky." 

Mr.  W.     "When  amid  the  lush  meadows  I  met  her, 
My  Molly,  so  modest  and  true  !  " 

Second  Censor.     I  object  to  the  word  "  lush  " — a  direct 
incitement  to  intemperance  ! 

Mr.  W.     I'll  strike  it  out  (Beads.) 

"  Around  us  the  little  kids  rollicked, 
Lighthearted  were  all  the  young  lambs " 

Second  Censor.  Surely  "kids  "  is  rather  a  vulgar  expression, 
Mr.  Wheedler  ?     Make  it  "  children^''  and  I've  no  objection. 
Mr.  W.     I  have  made  it  so.     (Reads.) 

**  They  kicked  up  their  legs  as  they  frolicked" 


MB.    PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIC    HALL. 


Third  Censor,  If  that  is  intended  to  be  done  on  the  stage, 
I  protest  most  strongly — a  highly  indecorous  exhibition  ! 

[MurmMrs  of  api)roval. 

Mr.  W.    But  they're  only  lambs  ! 

TJtird  Censor.  Lambs,  indeed  !  We  are  determined  to 
put  down  all  kicking  in  Music-hall  songs,  no  matter  wJio  docs 
it !     Strike  that  line  out. 

Mr.  W,  (reading).  ''And  frisked  by  the  side  of  their 
dams." 

First  Censor  {severely).  No  profanity,  Mr.  Wheedler,  if 
YOU  please  ! 

Mr.  IV.    Er — I'll  read  you  the  Kefrain.  (Heads,  Umphj.) 

''  Molly  and  I.     With  nobody  nigh. 

Hearts  all  a-throb  with  a  rapturous  bliss, 
Molly  was  shy.     And  (at  first)  so  was  I, 

Till  I  summoned  up  courage  to  ask  for  a  kiss  !  " 

The  Chairman.  "  Nobody  nigh,"  Mr.  Wheedler  ?  I  don't 
quite  like  that.  The  Music  Hall  ought  to  set  a  good  example 
to  young  persons.  "  Molly  and  I — witJi  Iter  ehaperon  />//,"  is 
better. 

Second  Censor.  And  that  last  line — "  asking  for  a  kiss  " 
— does  the  song  state  that  they  were  formally  engaged,  Mr. 
Wheedler  ? 

Mr.  ir.  I — I  believe  it  omits  to  mention  the  fact.  But 
(ingeniously)  it  does  not  appear  that  the  request  was  complied 
with. 

Second  Censor.  No  matter — it  should  never  have  been 
made.  Have  the  goodness  to  alter  that  into — well,  something 
of  this  kind.  *'  And  I  ahvays  addressed  her  politely  as. 
*'Miss."     Then  we  may  pass  it. 

il/?*.  TT'.  (reading  the  next  verse). 

*'  She  w^ore  but  a  simple  sun-bonnet." 


INTRODUCTION. 


First  Censor  (shocked).    Now  reaXlj,  Mr.  Wlieedler,  really y 
Sir! 

Mr.  W.  "  For  Molly  goes  plainly  attired." 


Licensing  Day. 


First  Censor  {Indignantly).  I  should  ihvak^o—Scandalous! 
Mr.  W.  "  Malediction  I  muttered  upon  it, 

One  glimpse  of  her  face  I  desired." 


8  MR.    PUNCH'S   MODEL    MUSIC   HALL. 

The  Chairman.  I  think  my  colleague's  exception  is  perhaps 
just  a  leetle  far-fetched.  At  all  events,  if  we  substitute  for  the 
last  couplet, 

"  Her  dress  is  sufficient — though  on  it 
She  only  spends  what  is  strictly  required." 

Eh,  Mr.  Wheedler  ?  Then  we  work  in  a  moral  as  well,  you 
see,  and  avoid  malediction,  which  can  only  mean  bad  language. 

Mr.  W.  {douhtfidly) ,  With  all  respect,  I  submit  that  it 
doesn't  scan  quite  so  well 

The  Chairman  (sharply).  I  venture  to  think  scansion  may 
be  sacrificed  to  propriety,  occasionally,  Mr.  Wheedler — but 
pray  go  on. 

Mr.  W.  (continuing). 

"  To  a  streamlet  we  rambled  together. 

I  carried  her  tenderly  o'er. 
In  my  arms — she's  as  light  as  a  feather — 
That  sweetest  of  burdens  I  bore  !  " 

First  Censor.  I  really  must  protest.  No  properly  conducted 
young  woman  would  ever  have  permitted  such  a  thing.  You 
must  alter  that,  Mr.  Wheedler  ! 

Second  C.  And  I  don't  know — but  I  rather  fancy  there's  a 
"  double-intender  "  in  that  word  *' light" — (to  colleague) — it 
strikes  me — eh? — what  do  you  think? 

TJie  Chairman  (in  a  conciliatory  manner).  I  am  inclined  to 
agree  to  some  extent — not  that  I  consider  the  words  particu- 
larly objectionable  in  themselves,  but  we  are  men  of  the 
world,  Mr.  Wheedler,  and  as  such  we  cannot  shut  our  eyes  to 
the  fact  that  a  Music-hall  audience  is  only  too  apt  to  find 
significance  in  many  apparently  innocent  expressions  and 
phrases. 

Mr.  W.   But,  Sir,  I  understood  from  your  remarks  recently 


INTRODUCTION. 


that  the  Democracy  were  strongly  opposed  to  anything  in  the 
nature  of  suggestiveness ! 

The  Ch,  Exactly  so ;  and  therefore  we  cannot  allow  their 
susceptibilities  to  be  shocked.  {With  a  severe  jocosity.)  Molly 
and  you,  Mr.  Wheedler,  naust  either  ford  the  stream  like 
ordinary  persons,  or  stay  where  you  are. 

Mr.  W.  {depressed).  I  may  as  well  read  the  last  verse,  I 
suppose : 

*'  Then  under  the  flickering  willow 
I  lay  by  the  rivulet's  brink, 
With  her  lap  for  a  sumptuous  pillow " 


First  Censor.  We  can't  have  that.  It  is  really  not 
respectable. 

The  Ch.  {pleasantly).  Can't  we  alter  it  slightly?  "I'd 
brought  a  small  portable  pillow."      No  objection  to  that  ! 

[The  other  Censors  express  dissent  in  undertones. 
Mr.  W.         *'  Till  I  owned  that  I  longed  for  a  drink." 
Third  C.    No,  no  !     *'  A  drink  "  !     We  all  know  what  that 
means — alcoholic   stimulant   of  some   kind.     At   all  events 
that's  how  the  audience  are  certain  to  take  it. 
Mr.  W.  ifeehly). 

*'  So  Molly  her  pretty  hands  hollowed 
Into  curves  like  an  exquisite  cup, 
And  draughts  so  delicious  I  swallowed, 
That  rivulet  nearly  dried  up  !  " 
Third  C.    Well,  Mr.  Wheedler,  you're  not  going  to  defend 
that,  I  hope  ? 

Mr.  W.  I'm  not  prepared  to  deny  that  it  is  silly — very 
silly — but  hardly — er — vulgar,  I  should  have  thought  ? 

Third  C.  That  is  a  question  of  taste,  which  we  won't 
dispute.  I  call  it  distinctly  vulgar.  Why  can't  he  drink  out 
of  his  own  hands  ? 

The  Ch.  {blandly).    Allow  me.     How  would  tJtis  do  for  the 


10  MR.    PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIC  HALL. 


second  line  ?  *' She  had  a  collapsible  cup."  A  good  many 
l)eople  do  carry  them.  I  have  one  myself.  Is  that  all  of 
your  Ballad,  Mr.  Wheedler  ? 

Mr.  W.  {with  great  relief.)     That  is  all,  Sir. 

[Ceiisors  ivithdraw^  to  consider  the  question. 

The  Ch.  (after  considtation  with  colleagues).  We  have 
carefully  considered  this  song,  and  we  are  all  reluctantly  of 
opinion  that  we  cannot,  consistently  with  our  duty,  recom- 
mend the  Council  to  license  it — even  with  the  alterations  my 
colleagues  and  myself  have  gone  somewhat  out  of  our  way  to 
suggest.  The  whole  subject  is  too  dangerous  for  a  hall  in 
whicli  young  persons  of  both  sexes  are  likely  to  be  found 
assembled ;  and  the  absence  of  any  distinct  assertion  that  the 
young  couple— Molly  and — ah— the  gentleman  who  narrates 
the  experience — are  bet^v^thed,  or  that  their  attachment  is,  in 
any  way,  sanctioned  by  their  parents  or  guardians,  is  quite 
fatal.  If  we  have  another  Ballad  of  a  similar  character 
from  the  same  quarter,  Mr.  Wheedler,  I  feel  bound  to  warn 
you  that  we  may  possibly  consider  it  necessary  to  advise  that 
the  poet's  licence  should  be  cancelled  altogether. 

Mr.  W.  I  will  take  care  to  mention  it  to  my  client,  Sir.  I 
understand  it  is  his  intention  to  confine  himself  to  writing 
Gaiety  burlesques  in  future. 

Tlic  Ch.  A  very  laudable  resolution  !  I  hope  he  will  keep 
^^'  [Scene  closes  in. 

It  is  hardly  possible  that  any  Music-hall  Managci^ 
or  Yocalist,  irreproachable  as  he  may  hitherto  have 
considered  himself,  can  have  taken  this  glimpse  into 
a  not  very  remote  futurity  without  symptoms  of  un- 
easiness, if  not  of  positive  dismay.  He  will  reflect 
that  the  ballad  of  "Molly  and  I,"  however  repre- 


INTRODUCTION,  11 


hensible  it  may  appear  in  the  fierce  light  of  an  L.  C. 
C.  Committee  Eoom,  is  innocuous,  and  even  moral, 
compared  to  the  ditties  in  his  own  rejoertoirc.  How^ 
then,  can  he  hope,  when  his  hour  of  trial  strikes,  to 
confront  the  ordeal  with  an  unruffled  shii't-front,  or  a 
collar  that  shall  retain  the  inflexibility  of  con- 
scious innocence?  And  he  will  wish  then  that  ho 
had  confined  himself  to  the  eftusions  of  a  bard 
who  could  not  be  blamed  by  the  most  censorious 
moralist. 

Here,  if  he  will  only  accept  the  wariung  in  time, 
is  his  best  safeguard.  lie  has  only  to  buy  this  little^ 
volume,  and  inform  his  inquisitors  that  the  songs 
and  business  Avith  which  he  proposes  to  entertain  an 
ingenuous  public  are  derived  from  the  immaculate 
pages  of  Mr.  Punch.  Whereupon  censure  will  be- 
instantly  disarmed  and  criticism  give  place  to  con- 
gratulation. It  is  just  possible,  to  be  sure,  that  this 
somewhat  confident  ]3i'ediction  smacks  rather  of  the 
Poet  than  the  Seer,  and  that  even  the  entertainment 
supplied  by  Mr.  Punch's  Music  Ilall  may,  to  the 
Pmist's  eye,  present  features  as  suggestive  as  a 
horrid  vulgar  clown,  or  as  shocking  as  a  butterfly, 
an  insect  notorious  for  its  frivolity.  But  then, 
so  might  the  "  songs  and  business  "  of  the  perform- 
ing canary,  or  the  innocent  sprightliness  of  the 
educated    flea,    with    its    superfluity     of    legs,     all 


12 


MB.   PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIC  HALL. 


absolutely  imclad.  At  all  eycnts,  the  compiler  of 
this  collection  ventures  to  hope  that,  whether  it  is 
fortunate  enough  to  find  favour  or  not  with  Music- 
hall  ^^  artistes,  "  literary  critics,  and  London  County 
Councilmen,  it  contains  nothing  particularly  objec- 
tionable to  the  rest  of  the  Eritish  Public.  And 
very  likely,  even  in  this  modest  aspiration,  he  is 
over-sanguine,  and  his  little  joke  will  be  taken 
seriously.  Earnestness  is  so  alarmingly  on  the  in- 
crease in  these  days. 


MODEL    MUSIC    HALL 


SONGS. 


^< 


The   Patriotic. 


i.-THE    PATRIOTIC. 

This  stirring  ditty — so  tliorouglily  sound  and  practical 
under  all  its  sentiment  —  lias  been  specially  designed  to 
harmonise  with  the  recently  altered  tone  of  Music-hall 
audiences,  in  which  a  spirit  of  enlightened  Eadicalism  is  at 
last  happily  discernible.  It  is  hoped  that,  both  in  rhyme  and 
metre,  the  verses  will  satisfy  the  requirements  of  this  most 
elegant  form  of  composition.  The  song  is  intended  to  be 
shouted  through  music  in  the  usual  manner  by  a  singer  in 
evening  dress,  who  should  carry  a  small  Union  Jack  carelessly 
thrust  inside  his  waistcoat.     The  title  is  short  but  taking : — 


ON     THE     CHEAP! 

First  J^erse. 

Of  a  Navy  insufficient  cowards  croak,  deah  boys  ! 

If  our  place  among  the  nations  we're  to  keep. 

But  with  British  beef,  and  beer,  and  hearts  of  oak,   deah 

boys  ! — 
(With  enthusiams.)    We  can  make  a  shift  to  do  it — On  the 
Cheap  ! 

Chorus. 
{With  a  common-sense  air.)    Let  us  keep,  deah  boys  !    On 

the  Cheap, 
\\Tiile  Britannia  is  the  boss  upon  the  deep. 


li;  MR.    PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIC  HALL. 

She  can  wollop  an  invader,  when  he  comes  in  his  Armada, 
If  she's  let  alone  to  do  it — On  the  Cheap  ! 

Second  Verse. 
(Affectionatcltj.)    Johnny  Bull  is  just  as  plucky  as  he  was, 

deah  hoys ! 
(With  a  hioiving  icink.)   And  he's  wide  awake — no  error  ! — 

not  asleep ; 
But  he  won't  stump  up  for  ironclads — hecos,  deah  boys  ! 
He  don't  see  his  way  to  get  'em — On  the  Cheap  ! 

Chorus. 
So  keep,  deah  hoys  !  On  the  Cheap, 

{Gallanily.)  And  we'll  chance  what  may  happen  on  the  deep  ! 
For  w^e  can't  he  the  losers  if  w^e  save  the  cost  o'  cruisers. 
And  contentedly  continue — On  the  Cheap  ! 

Third  Verse. 
The  British  Isles  are  not  the  Conti-nong,  deah  boys  ! 
iScornfidly.)  Where  the  Johnnies  on  defences  spend  a  heap. 
No  !  w^e're  Britons,  and  we're  game  to  jog  along,  deah  boys  ! 
{With  patJtos.)    In  the  old  time-honoured  fashion — On  the 
Cheap ! 

Chorus. 
(Implorincily.)  Ah  !  keep,  deah  boys  !    On  the  Cheap ; 
For  the  price  we're  asked  to  pay  is  pretty  steep. 
Let  us  all  unite  to  dock  it,  keep  the  money  in  our  pocket, 
And  we'll  conquer  or  we'll  perish — On  the  Cheap  ! 

Fourth  Verse. 
If  the  Tories  have  the  cheek  to  touch  our  purse,  deah  boys  ! 
Their  reward  at  the  elections  let  'em  reap  ! 


THE   PATRIOTIC.  17 


They  will  find  a  big  Conservative  reverse,  deah  boys  ! 
If  they  can't  defend  the  country — On  the  Cheap  ! 

Cliorus, 
They  must  keep,  deah  boys  !  On  the  Cheap, 
Or  the  lot  out  of  office  we  will  sweep ! 

Bull  gets  rusty  when  you  tax  him,  and  his  patriotic  maxim 
Is,  "I'll  trouble  you  to  govern — On  the  Cheap  !  " 

Fifth  Verse  {this  to  he  sung  shreiudly) . 
If  the  Gover'ment  ain't  mugs  they'll  take  the  tip,  deah  boys  ! 
Just  to  look  a  bit  ahead  before  they  leap. 
And  instead  of  laying  down  an  extry  ship,  deah  boys  ! 
They'll  cut  down  the  whole  caboodle — On  the  Cheap  ! 

Chorus  {with  spirit  and  fervour). 
And  keep,  deah  boys  !   On  the  Cheap  ! 
For  we  ain't  like  a  bloomin'  lot  o'  sheep. 
"When  we  want  to  "  parry  helium,"* 

[Union  Jack  to  he  ivaved  here. 
You  may  bet  yer  boots  we'll  tell  'em ! 
But  we'll  have  the  ''helium  "  " parried  "—On  the  Cheap  ! 

This  song,  if  sung  with  any  spirit,  should,  Mr.  Punch 
thinks,  cause  a  positive  furore  in  any  truly  patriotic  gather- 
ing, and  possibly  go  some  way  towards  influencing  the 
decision  of  the  country,  and  consequently  the  fate  of  the 
Empire,  in  the  next  General  Elections.  In  the  meantime  it 
is  at  the  service  of  any  Champion  Music  Hall  Comique  who 
is  capable  of  appreciating  it. 

*  Music-hall  Lalinity — ''  Para  bell  am. ''^ 


ii.-THE    TOPICAL-POLITICAL. 


IN  most  respects,  no  doubt, 
the  present  example  can 
boast  no  superiority  to  dit- 
ties in  the  same  style  now 
commanding  the  ear  of  the 
public.  One  merit,  how- 
ever, its  author  does  claim 
for  it.  Though  it  deals  with 
most  of  the  burning  ques- 
tions of  the  hour,  it  can  be 
sung  anywhere  with  absolute 
security.  This  is  due  to  a 
simple  but  ingenious  method 
by  which  the  political  sen- 
timent has  been  arranged  on 
the  reversible  principle.  A 
little  alteration  here  and 
there  will  put  the  singer  in 
close  touch  with  an  audience 
of  almost  any  shade  of  poli- 
tics. Should  it  happen  that 
the  title  has  been  already 
anticipated,  Mr.  Punch  begs 
to  explain  that  the  remain- 
der of  this  sparkling  composition  is  entirely  original ;    any 


And  the  I'ost ! 


THE    TOPICAL-POLITICAL.  19 

similarity  with  previous  works  must  be  put  down  entirely 
to  "  literary  coincidence."  Whether  the  title  is  new  or  not, 
it  is  a  very  nice  one,  viz  : — 

BETWEEN  YOU  AND  ME— AND 
THE  POST. 

{To  he  sung  in  a  raucous  voice,  and  with  a  confidential  air,)  , 

I've  dropped  in  to  whisper  some  secrets  I've  heard. 

Between  you  and  me  and  the  Post ! 
Picked  up  on  the  wing  by  a  'cute  little  bird. 
We  are  gentlemen  'ere — so  the  caution's  absurd, 
Still,  you'll  please  to  remember  that  every  word 

Is  between  you  and  me  and  the  Post ! 

Chorus  {to  u'Jiich  the  singer  sJiould  dance)'. 

Between  you  and  me  and  the  Post !  An  'int  is  sufficient  at  most. 
I'd  very  much  rather  this  didn't  go  farther,  than  'tween  yoii 
and  me  and  the  Post ! 

At  Lord  Sorlsbury's  table  there's  sech  a  to-do. 

Between  you  and  me  and  the  Post ! 
When  he  first  ketches  sight  of  his  dinner  nienoo, 
And  sees  he's  set  down  to  good  old  Irish  stoo — 
AVhich  he's  sick  of  by  this  time — now,  tell  me,  ain't  ijou  ? 

Between  j^ou  and  me  and  the  Post ! 

{TJiis  happy  and  pointed  allusion  to  the  Irish  Question  is 
sure  to  provoke  loud  laughter  from  an  audience  of  Iladieal 
sympathies.  For  Unionists,  the  words  *'  Lord  Sorls- 
bury's"  can  he  altered  hy  our  jyatent  reversihlc  method 
into  ''  the  G.  0.  M.'s,"  witliout  at  all  impairing  the  satire.) 

Chorus,  as  hefore, 

c  2 


20  MR.    PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIC  HALL. 

The  G.  0.  M.'s  hiding  a  card  up  his  sleeve. 

Between  you  and  me  and  the  Post  I 
Any  ground  he  has  lost  he  is  going  to  retrieve, 
And  what  his  little  game  is,  he'll  let  us  perceive, 
And  he'll  pip  the  whole  lot  of  'em,  so  I  believe, 

Between  you  and  me  and  the  Post !     (Chorus.) 
[The  hit  tvill  he  made  quite  as  iialpahly  for  the  other  side  hy 
substituting  "Lord  Sorlsbury's,"  dc.,  at  the  heginnhig  of 
the  first  line,  should  the  majority  of  the  audience  he  found 
to  hold  Conservative  vieivs.) 
Little  Kandolph  won't  long  be  left  out  in  the  cold. 

Between  you  and  me  and  the  Post  ! 
If  they'll  let  him  inside  the  Conservative  fold, 
He  has  promised  no  longer  he'll  swagger  and  scold. 
But  to  be  a  good  boy,  and  to  do  as  he's  told. 

Between  you  and  me  and  the  Post !     {Chorus.) 
{The  mere  mention  of  Lord  Randolph's  name  is  sufficient  to 
ensure  the  success  of  any  song.) 

Joey  Chamberlain's  orchid's  a  bit  overblown. 
Between  you  and  me  and  the  Post ! 

{This  is  rather  subtle,  2Jerhaj)s,  but  an  M.-H.  audience  ivill 
see  a  joke  in  it  soniewJiere,  and  laugh.) 

'Ow  to  square  a  round  table  I'm  sure  he  has  shown. 

{Same  observation  aj^plies  here. 
But  of  late  he's  been  leaving  his  old  friends  alone. 
And  I  fancy  he's  grinding  an  axe  of  his  own, 

Between  you  and  me  and  the  Post !     {Chorus.) 

{IVe  noio  pass  on  to  Topics  of  the  Day,  which  ive  treat  in  a 
light  but  trenchant  fashion.) 

On  the  noo  County  Councils  they've  too  many  nobs, 
Between  you  and  me  and  the  Post ! 


THE    TOPICAL-POLITICAL.  21 

For  the  swells  stick  together,  and  sneer  at  the  mobs ; 
And  it's  always  the  rich  man  the  poor  one  who  robs. 
\Ye  shall  'ave  the  old  business — all  jabber  and  jobs  ! 

Between  you  and  me  and  the  Post !     (Chorus.) 

(X.B. — This  verse  should  not  he  read  to  the  L.  C.  C.  icJiO 
might  miss  the  fun  of  it.) 

There's  a  new^  rule  for  ladies  presented  at  Court, 

Between  you  and  me  and  the  Post ! 
High  necks  are  allowed,  so  no  colds  will  be  cort, 
]iut  I  went  to  the  droring-room  lately,  and  thort 
Some  old  wimmen  had  dressed  quite  as  low  as  they  ort ! 
Between  you  and  me  and  the  Post  !     (Chorus.) 

By  fussy  alarmists  we're  too  much  annoyed, 
Between  you  and  me  and  the  Post ! 
If  we  don't  want  our  neighbours  to  think  we're  afroid, 

[M.-H.  rhyme. 
Spending  dibs  on  defence  we  had  better  avoid. 
And  give  'em  instead  to  the  poor  unemploj'ed. 

[M.-H,  ijolitieal  economy. 
Between  you  and  me  and  the  Post !     (Chorus.) 

This  style  of  perlitical  singing  ain't  hard, 

Between  you  and  me  and  the  Post ! 

As  a  "  Mammoth  Comique  "  on  the  bills  I  am  starred, 

And,  so  long  as  I'm  called,  and  angcored,  and  hurrar'd, 

I  can  rattle  off  rubbish  like  this  by  the  yard, 

Between  you  and  me  and  the  Post ! 

[Chorus,  and  dance  off  to  sing  the  same  song — ivith  or  icith- 
out  alterations — in  another  iilace. 


A  Democratic  Ditty. 


iii.-A   DEMOCRATIC    DITTY. 

The  following  example,  altliougli  it  gives  a  not  wholly  in- 
adequate expression  to  what  are  understood  to  be  the  loftier 
aspirations  of  the  most  advanced  and  earnest  section  of  the 
New  Democracy,  should  not  be  attempted,  as  yet,  before  a 
West-End  audience.  In  South  or  East  London,  the  senti- 
ment and  philosophy  of  the  song  may  possibly  excite  rap- 
turous enthusiasm ;  in  the  West-End,  though  the  tone  is 
daily  improving,  they  are  not  educated  quite  up  to  so  exalted 
£1  level  at  present.  Still,  as  an  experiment  in  proselytism,  it 
might  be  worth  risking,  even  there.     The  title  it  bears  is  : — 

GIVEN    AWAY— WITH    A    POUND 
OF    TEA! 

Verse  I. — {Introductory.) 

Some  Grocers  have  taken  to  keeping  a  stock 

Of  ornaments — such  as  a  vase,  or  a  clock — 

With  a  ticket  on  each  where  the  words  you  may  sec  : 

*'  To  be  given  away — with  a  Pound  of  Tea  !  " 

Chorus  {in  icaltz  time). 

"  Given  away  !  " 
That's  what  they  say. 
Gratis — a  present  it's  offered  you  free. 


24  MB.    PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIC  HALL. 


Given  away. 
With  nothing  to  pay, 
"  Given  away — [tenderly'] — wdth  a  Pound  of  Tea  !  " 

Yerse  II. — {Containing  the  moral  reflection.) 

Now,  the  sight  of  those  tickets  gave  me  an  idear. 
What  it  set  me  a-thinking  you're  going  to  'ear  : 
I  thought  there  were  things  that  would  possibly  be 
Better  given  away — with  a  Pound  of  Tea  ! 

CJiorus — **  Given  away."     So  much  as  to  say,  &c. 

Terse  III. — This,  as  being  rather  ijersonal  than  general  in  its 
aj^plication,  may  7ieed  some  a2:)ology.  It  is  really  imt  in 
as  a  gracefid  concession  to  the  taste  of  an  average  Music- 
hall  audience,  ivho  like  to  he  assured  that  the  Artists 
lilio  amuse  them  are  as  imfortunatc  as  they  are  erratic  in 
their  domestic  relations.) 

Now,  there's  my  old  Missus  who  sits  up  at  'ome — 
And  when  I  sneak  ?fj9-stairs  my  'air  she  will  comb, — 
I  don't  think  I'd  call  it  bad  business  if  she 
Could  be  given  away — with  a  Pound  of  Tea  ! 

Chorus — "  Given  away  !  "      That's  what  they 
say,  &c.  [M«tot2S  mutandis. 

Verse  IV. — {Flying  at  higher  game.  The  social  satire  here  is 
perhajys  almost  too  good-natured,  seeing  what  intolerable 
IKsts  all  Peers  are  to  the  truly  Democratic  mind.  But  we 
must  tvalk  before  we  can  run.  Good-humoured  contempt 
will  do  very  tvell,  for  the  present.) 

Fair  Americans  snap  up  the  pick  of  our  Lords. 
It's  a  practice  a  sensible  Briton  applords. 
[This  will  check  any  groaning  at  the  mention  of  Aristocrats, 


A    DEMOCRATIC  BITTY.  25 

Far  from  grudging  our  Dooks  to  the  pretty  Yan-kee, — 
{Magnanimously)  Why,  we'd  give  'em  away — with  a  Pound 
of  Tea ! 

Chorus — Give  'em  away  !     So  we  all  say,  &c. 

Verse  Y. — (More  franldy  Democratic  still.) 
To-wards  a  Eepublic  we're  getting  on  fast ; 
Many  old  Institootions  are  things  of  the  past. 
{Philosopliicalhj)  Soon  the  Crown  '11  go,  too,  as  an   a-noma- 

lee. 
And  be  given  away — with  a  Pound  of  Tea  ! 

Chorus — "  Given  away  !  "  Some  future  day,  &c. 

Yerse  YI. — {Which  expresses  the  peaceful  proclivities  of  the 
populace  with  equal  eloquence  and  ivisdom.  A  welcome 
contrast  to  the  era  ivhen  Britons  had  a  bellicose  and  im- 
moral belief  in  the  p^ossihility  of  being  called  upon  to 
defend  themselves  at  some  time .') 

We've  made  up  our  minds — though  the  Jingoes  may  jor — 

Under  no  provocation  to  drift  into  war  ! 

So  the  best  thing  to  do  with  our  costly  Na-vee 

Is — Give  each  ship  away,  with  a  Pound  of  Tea ! 

Chorus — Give  'em  away,  &c. 

Yerse  YIL — (We  cannot  well  avoid  some  reference  to  the 
Irish  Question  in  a  Music-hcdl  ditty,  but  observe  the 
logiccd  and  statesmanlike  method  of  treating  it  here. 
The  argument — if  crudely  stated — is  borrowed  from  some 
advanced  by  our  foremost  politicians.) 

We've  also  discovered  at  last  that  it's  crule 

To  deny  the  poor  Irish  their  right  to  'Ome  Kule ! 


26  MR.    PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIC  HALL. 

So  to  give  'em  a  Parlyment  let  us  agree — 
{nationally)  Or  they  may  blow  us  up  with  a  Pound  of  their 
"  Tea  "  ! 
[A   euphemism  ivhicli    may  possibly  be  remembered  and 
understood. 

Chorus — Give  it  away,  &c. 

Verse  VIII.  {culminating  in  a  glorious  prophetic  burst  of  the 
Coming  Dawn). 

Iniquitous  burdens  and  rates  we'll  relax  : 

For  each  *'  h  "  that's  pronounced  we  will  clap  on  a  tax  ! 

[A  very  popular  measure. 

And  a  nouse  in  Belgraveyer,  with  furniture  free, 
Shall  each  Soshalist  sit  in,  a  taking  his  tea ! 

Chorus,  and  dance  off. — Given  away  !     Ippipooray  !     Gratis 

we'll  get  it  for  nothing  and  free  ! 
Given  away !     Not  a  penny  to  pay  !     Given  away ! — with  a 

Pound  of  Tea ! 


If  this  Democratic  Dream  does  not  appeal  favourably  to  the 
imagination  of  the  humblest  citizen,  the  popular  tone  must 
have  been  misrepresented  by  many  who  claim  to  act  as  its 
chosen  interpreters — a  supposition  Mr.  Punch  must  decline 
to  entertain  for  a  single  moment. 


iv.^THE    IDYLLIC. 

The  following  ballad  will  not  be  found  above  the  beads  of 
an  average  audience,  while  it  is  constructed  to  suit  the 
capacities  of  almost  any  lady  artiste. 

SO     SHY ! 

The  singer  should^  if  i^ssiUe,  he  of  mature  age,  and  incline  to 
a  comfortable  cmhonpoint.  As  soon  as  tJie  hell  has  given 
the  signal  for  the  orchestra  to  attack  the  j^relude,  she  will 
step  upon  the  stage  with  that  air  of  heing  hung  on  wires, 
which  seems  to  come  from  a  consciousness  of  heing  a 
favourite  of  the  public, 

I'm  a  dynety  little  dysy  of  the  dingle, 
[Self-praise  is  a  great   recommendation — in  Music-hall 
songs. 

So  retiring  and  so  timid  and  so  coy. 
If  you  ask  me  why  so  long  I  have  lived  single, 
I  will  tell  you — 'tis  because  I  am  so  shoy. 
[Xote  the  manner  in  tvhich  the  rhyme  is  adapted  to  meet 
Arcadian  peculiarities  of  pronunciation. 

Spoken — Yes,  I  am— really,  though  you  wouldn't  think  it 
to  look  at  me,  would  you  ?     But,  for  all  that, — 
Chorus — When  I'm  spoken  to,  I  wriggle, 
Going  off  into  a  giggle. 


28  MR,    PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIC  BALL. 

And  as  red  as  any  peony  I  blush ; 

Then  turn  paler  than  a  lily, 

For  I'm  such  a  little  silly, 
That  I'm  always  in  a  flutter  or  a  flush  ! 

[After  each  cJwrus  an  elaborate  step-dance^  expressive  of 
slirinking  maidenly  modesty. 

I've  a  cottage  far  away  from  other  houses, 
Which  the  nybours  hardly  ever  come  anoigh  ; 

When  they  do,  I  run  and  hoide  among  the  rouses, 
For  I  cannot  cure  myself  of  being  shoy. 

Spoken — A  great  girl  like  me,  too  !     But  there,  it's  no  use 
trying,  for— 

Cliorus — When  I'm  spoken  to,  I  wriggle,  &c. 

Well,  the  other  day  I  felt  my  flee  was  crimson, 
Though  I  stood  and  fixed  my  gyze  upon  the  skoy, 

For  at  the  gyte  was  sorcy  Chorley  Simpson, 
And  the  sight  of  him's  enough  to  turn  me  shoy. 

Spoken — It's  singular,  but  Chorley  always  'as  that  efi'ect  on 
me. 

Chorus — When  he  speaks  to  me,  I  wriggle,  See. 

Then  said  Chorley  :  "  My  pursuit  there's  no  evyding. 

Now  I've  caught  you,  I  insist  on  a  reploy. 
Do  you  love  me  ?     Tell  me  truly,  little  myding  !  " 

But  how  is  a  girl  to  answer  when  she's  shoy  ? 

Spoken — For  even  if  the  conversation  happens  to  be  about 
nothing  particular,  it's  just  the  same  to  me. 

Chorus — When  I'm  spoken  to,  I  wriggle,  kc. 


The   Idyllic. 


30  MB.    PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIC  HALL. 

There  we  stood  among  the  loilac  and  syringas, 
More  sweet  than  any  Ess.  Bouquet  you  boy  ; 

[Arcadian  for  "  hvy.'' 

And  Chorley  kept  on  squeezing  of  my  fingers. 
And  I  couldn't  tell  hhn  not  to,  behig  shoy. 

Spoken — For,  as  I  told  you  before, — 

Chorus — When  I'm  spoken  to,  I  wriggle,  ^c. 

Soon  my  slender  wyste  he  ventured  on  embrycing, 
AVhile  I  only  heaved  a  gentle  little  soy  ; 

Though  a  scream  I  would  have  liked  to  rise  my  vice  in, 
It's  so  difficult  to  scream  when  you  are  shoy  ! 

Spoken — People  have  such  different  ways  of  listening  to 
proposals.     As  for  me, — 

Chorus — When  they  talk  of  love,  I  wriggle,  &c. 

So  very  soon  to  Church  we  shall  be  gowing, 
While  the  bells  ring  out  a  merry  peal  of  jy. 

If  obedience  you  do  not  hear  me  vowing. 
It  will  only  be  because  I  am  so  shy. 
\]Ve  have  hroiight  the  rhyme  off  legitimately  at  last,  it 
ivill  he  ohservecL 

Spoken — Yes,   and  when  I'm   passing    down  the  oil,  on 
Chorley's  arm,  with  everybody  looking  at  me, — 

Chorus — I  am  certain  I  shall  wriggle, 
And  go  off  into  a  giggle. 
And  as  red  as  any  peony  I'll  blush. 
Going  through  the  marriage  service 
Will  be  sure  to  mike  me  nervous, 

[Note  the  freedom  of  the  rhyme. 
And  to  put  me  in  a  flutter  and  a  flush  ! 


v.-THE    AMATORY    EPISODIC. 

The  history  of  a  singer's  latest  love — ^vlietlier  fortunate  or 
otherwise — will  always  command  the  interest  and  attention 
of  a  Music-hall  audience.  Our  examjDle,  which  is  founded 
upon  the  very  best  precedents,  derives  an  additional  piquancy 
from  the  social  position  of  the  beloved  object.  Cultivated 
readers  are  requested  not  to  shudder  at  the  rhymes.  Mr. 
PanclCs  Poet  does  them  deliberately  and  in  cold  blood,  being 
convinced  that  without  these  somewhat  daring  concords,  no 
ditty  vvould  have  the  slightest  chance  of  satisfying  the  great 
ear  of  the  Music-hall  public. 

The  title  of  the  song  is  : — 

MASHED     BY    A     MARCHIONESS. 

The  singer  should  come  on  correctly  and  tastefidlij  attired 
in  a  suit  of  loud  dittoes,  a  startliuf/  tie,  and  a  wJiiti' 
hat — the  orthodox  costume  {on  the  Music-hall  starje)  of  a 
middle-class  sicain  suffering  from  lore-siclniess.  The  air 
should  he  of  the  conventional  jog-trot  and  jingle  order, 
chastened  hy  a  sentimental  melancholy. 

I've  lately  gone  and  lost  my  'art — and  where  you'll  never 

guess — 
I'm  regularly  mashed  upon  a  lovely  Marchioness  ! 


32  MR.    PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIC   HALL. 

'Twas  at  a  Fancy  Fair  we  met,  inside  the  Albert  'All ; 
So  affable  she  smiled  at  me  as  I  came  near  her  stall ! 

Chorus — Don't  tell  me  Belgravia  is  stiff  in  behaviour! 

She'd  an  Uncle  an  Earl,  and  a  Dook  for  her  Pa — 
Still  there  was  no  starchiness  in  that  fair  Mar- 
chioness, 
As  she  stood  at  her  stall  in  the  Fancy  Bazaar ! 

At  titles  and  distinctions  once  I'd  ignorantly  scoff. 
As  if  no  bond  could  be  betwixt  the  tradesman  and  the  toff ! 
I  held  with  those  who'd  do  away  with  difference  in  ranks — 
But  that  was  all  before  I  met  the  Marchioness  of  Manx  ! 

Chorus — Don't  tell  me  Belgravia,  c^c. 

A  home  was  being  started  by  some  kind  aristo-crats, 
For  orphan  kittens,  born  of  poor,  but  well-connected  cats  ; 
And  of  the  swells  who  planned  a  Fete  this  object  to  assist, 
The  Marchioness  of  Manx's  name  stood  foremost  on  the  list. 

Chorus — Don't  tell  me  Belgravia,  &c. 

I  never  saw  a  smarter  hand  at  serving  in  a  shop. 
For  every  likely  customer  she  caught  upon  the  'op  ! 
And  from  the  form  her  ladyship  displayed  at  that  Bazaar, 
{With  enthusiasm) — You  might  have  took  your   oath  she'd 
been  brought  up  behind  a  bar  ! 

Chorus — Don't  tell  me  Belgravia,  &c. 


In  vain  I  tried  to  kid  her  that  my  purse  had  been  forgot, 
She  spotted  me  in  'alf  a  jiff,  and  chaffed  me  precious  hot ! 


The  Amatory  EnsoDic. 


34  MR.    PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIC   HALL. 

A  SOY.  for  one  regaliar  she  gammoned  me  to  spend. 

**  You  really  can't  refuse,"  she  said,  '*  I've  bitten  off  the  end  ! " 

Chorus — Don't  tell  me  Belgrayia,  &c. 

*'Do  buy  my  crewel-work,"  she  urged,  "it  goes  across  a  chair. 
You'll  find  it  come  in  useful,  as  I  see  you  'ile  your  'air  !  " 
So  I  'anded  over  thirty  bob,  though  not  a  coiny  bloke. 
I  couldn't  tell  a  Marchioness  how  nearly  I  was  broke  ! 

Spoken — Though  I  did  take  the  liberty  of  saying  :  "  Make 
it  fifteen  bob,  my  lady  !  "  But  she  said,  with  such  a  fasci- 
nating look — I  can  see  it  yet ! — *'  Oh,  I'm  sure  you're  not  a 
'aggling  kind  of  a  man,"  she  says,  "  you  haven't  the  face  for 
it.  And  think  of  all  them  pore  fatherless  kittings,"  she  says  ; 
"  think  what  thirty  bob  means  to  them!  "  says  she,  glancing 
up  so  pitiful  and  tender  under  her  long  eyelashes  at  me.  Ah, 
the  Eadicals  may  talk  as  they  like^  but 

Chorus — Don't  tell  me  Belgravia,  &c. 

A  rafile  was  the  next  concern  I  put  my  rhino  in  : 
The  prize  a  talking  parrot,  which  I  didn't  want  to  win. 
Then  her  sister.  Lady  Tabby,  shewed  a  painted  milking  stool. 
And  I  bought  it — though  it's  not  a  thing  I  sit  on  as  a  rule. 

Spoken — Not  but  what  it  was  a  handsome  article  in  ii^ 
way,  too, — had  a  snow-scene  with  a  sunset  done  in  oil  on  it. 
*'  It  will  look  lovely  in  your  chambers,"  says  the  Marchioness ; 
**  it  was  ever  so  much  admired  at  Catterwall  Castle !  "  It 
didn't  look  so  bad  in  my  three-pair  back,  I  must  say,  though 
unfortunately  the  sunset  came  off  on  me  the  very  first  time 
I  happened  to  set  down  on  it.  Still  think  of  the  condescen- 
sion of  painting  such  a  thing  at  all ! 

Chorus — Don't  tell  me  Belgravia,  &c. 


THE   AMATORY    EFISODIC.  36 

The  Marquis  kept  a -fidgeting  and  frowning  at  liis  wife, 
For  she  talked  to  me  as  free  as  if  she'd  known  me  all  my  life  ! 
I  felt  that  I  was  in  the  swim,  so  wasn't  over-awed, 
But  'ung  about  and  spent  m}'  cash  as  lavish  as  a  lord  ! 

Spolcen — It  was  worth  all  the  money,  I  can  tell  you,  to  be 
chatting  there  across  the  counter  with  a  real  live  Marchioness 
for  as  long  as  ever  my  funds  would  'old  out.  They'd  have 
held  out  much  longer,  only  the  Marchioness  made  it  a  rule 
never  to  give  change — she  couldn't  break  it,  she  said,  not 
even  for  me.  I  wish  I  could  give  you  an  idea  of  how  she 
smiled  as  she  made  that  remark ;  for  the  fact  is,  when  an 
aristocrat  does  unbend — well, 

Chorus — Don't  tell  me  Belgravia,  &c. 

Next  time  I  meet  the  Marchioness  a-riding  in  the  Row, 
I'll  ketch  her  eye  and  raise  my  'at,  and  up  to  her  I'll  go, 
{With  sentiment) — And  tell  her  next  my  'art  I  keep  the  stump 

of  that  cigar 
She  sold  me  on  the  'appy  day  we  'ad  at  her  Bazaar  ! 

Spoken — And  she'll  be  pleased  to  see  me  again,  I  know  ! 
She's  not  one  of  your  stuck-up  sort ;  don't  you  make  no 
mistake  about  it,  the  aristocracy  ain't  'alf  as  bloated  as  people 
imagine  who  don't  know  'em.  Whenever  I  hear  parties 
running  'em  down,  I  always  say  : 

Chorus — Don't  tell  me  Belgravia  is  stiff  in  behaviour,  &c. 


D  2 


Tile    Ciiivalhous. 


vi.-THE    CHIVALROUS. 

The  singer  {who  should  he  a  large  man,  in  evening  dress,  with 
a  crumpled  shirt-front)  will  come  on  the  stage  2fitJi  a 
hearing  intended  to  convey  at  first  sight  that  he  is  a 
devoted  admirer  of  the  fair  sex.  After  removing  his 
crush-hat  in  an  easy  manner,  and  winking  airily  at  the 
orchestra,  he  luill  begin  : — 

WHY    SHOULDNT   THE    DARLINGS? 

There's   enthusiasm   brimming   in   the   breasts   of  all   the 
women, 
And   they're   calling    for    enfranchisement    with    clamour 
eloquent  : 
When  some  parties  in  a  huff  rage  at  the  plea  for  Female 
Suffrage, 
I  invariably  floor  them  with  a  simple  argu-ment. 

Chorus  (to  he  rendered  with  a  ivinning  j)ersuasivencss). 

Why  shouldn't  the  darlings  have  votes  ?  de-ar  things  ! 
On  politics  each  of  'em  dotes,  de-ar  things  ! 
{Pathetically.)  Oh  it  docs  seem  so  hard 

They  should  all  be  debarred, 
'Cause  they  happen  to  wear  petticoats,  de-ar  things  ! 

Nature  all  the   hens  to  crow  meant,  I  could  prove  it  in  a 
moment, 
Though  they've  selfishly  been  silenced  by  the  cockadoodle- 
doos. 


38  MR.    PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIC  HALL. 

But  no  man  of  sense  afraid  is  of  enfranchising  the  Ladies. 
{Magnanimously .)  Let  'em  put  their  pretty  fingers  into  a7)y 
pie  they  choose ! 

Spoken — For 

Chorus — Why  shoulchi't  the  darhngs,  kc. 

They  would  cease  to  care  for  dresses,  if  we  made  them  elec- 
tresses, 
No  more  time  they'd  spend  on  needlework,  nor  at  pianos 
strum  ; 
Every  dainty  little  Dorcas  would  he  sitting  on  a  Caucus, 
Busy  wire-pulling  to  produce  the  New  Millenni-um ! 

Spoken — Oh  ! 

Chorus — Why  shouldnt  the  darlings,  &c. 

Li   the   House  we'll  see  them  sitting  soon,  it  will  he  only 
fitting 
They  should  have  an  opportunity  their  country's  laws  to 
frame. 
And  the  Ladies'  legislation  will  he  sure  to  cause  sensation, 
For  they'll  do  away  with  everything  that  seems  to  them  a 
shame  ! 

Spoken — Then 

Chorus — Why  shouldn't  the  darlings,  &c. 

They  will  promptly  clap  a   stopper  on  whate'er  they  deem 
improper. 
Put  an  end  to  vaccination,  landed  property,  and  puhs  ; 
And  they'll  fine  Tom,  Dick,  and  Harry,  if  they  don't  look 
sharp  and  marry. 
And  for  Kindergartens  confiscate  those  nasty  horrid  Cluhs  ! 

Spoken — Ah  ! 

Chorus — Why  shouldnt  the  darlings,  c^'c. 


THE    CHIVALROUS.  39 

They'll   declare   it's   quite    immoral   to    engage    in   foreign 
quarrel, 
And  that  Britons  never  never  will  be  warriors  any  more  ! 
When  our  forces  are  abolished,  and  defences  all  demolished, 
They  will  turn  upon  the  Jingo  tack,  and  want  to  go  to 
war ! 

Spoken — So 

Chorus — Why  shouldnH  the  darlings,  &c. 

(With  a  grieved  air.)  Yet  there's   some  who'd   close   such 
vistars  to  their  poor  down-trodden  sistars, 
And  persuade    'em,   if  they're   offered   votes,  politely  to 
refuse  ! 
Say  they  do  not  care  about  'em,  and  would  rather  be  without 
'em — 
Oh,  I  haven't  common  patience  with  such  narrer-minded 
views ! 

Spohen — ^No  ! 

Chorus — Why  shouldn't  the  darlings,  &c. 

And  it's  females — that's  the  puzzle  ! — who  petition  for  the 
muzzle, 
Which  I  call  it  poor  and  paltry,  and  I  think  you'll  say  so 
too. 
They  are  not  in  any  danger.   Let  'em  drop  the  dog-in-manger  ! 
If  they  don't  require  the  vote  themselves,  there's   other 
Ladies  do ! 

Spoken — And 

Chorus — Why  shouldn't  the  darlings,  &c. 

[Here  the  singer  ivlll  gradually  retreat  backwards  to  the  rear 
of  the  stagey  open  his  crush-hat,  and  extend  it  in  an 
attitude  of  triumph  as  the  curtain  descends. 


vii.-THE    FRANKLY    CANAILLE. 

Any  ditty  wliicli  accurately  reflects  the  habits  and  amuse- 
ments of  the  people  is  a  valuable  human  document — a  fact  that 
probably  accounts  for  the  welcome  which  songs  in  the 
following  style  invariably  receive  from  Music-hall  audiences 
generally.  If — Mr.  Punch  presumes — they  conceived  such 
pictures  of  their  manner  of  spending  a  holiday  to  be  unjustly 
or  incorrectly  drawn  in  any  way,  they  would  protest  strongly 
against  being  so  grossly  misrepresented.  As  they  do  nothing 
of  the  sort,  no  apology  can  be  needed  for  the  following 
effusion,  which  several  ladies  now  adorning  the  Music-hall 
stage  could  be  trusted  to  render  with  immense  effect.  The 
singer  should  be  young  and  charming,  and  attired  as  simply 
as  possible.  Simplicity  of  attire  imparts  additional  piquancy 
to  the  words : — 

THE     POOR    OLD     'ORSE. 

"VYe  'ad  a  little  outing  larst  Sunday  arternoon  ; 
And  sech  a  jolly  lark  it  was,  I  shan't  forget  it  soon ! 
We  borrered  an  excursion  van  to  take  us  down  to  Kew, 
And — oh,  we  did  enjoy  ourselves  !    I  don't  mind  telling  you, 

[This  to  the  ChefcVOrcJicstre,  ivho  will  assume  a  polite  interest. 

[Here  a  little  spoken  interlude  is  customary,  Mr.  P.  does  not 
venture  to  do  more  than  indicate  this  by  a  synopsis,  the 
details  can  he  filled  in  according  to  the  taste  and  fancy  of 


THE   FRANKLY    CANAILLE.  41 

the  fair  artiste : — "  Yes,  ice  did  \ive  a  time,  I  can  assure 
yer."  The  party :  "  Me  and  Jimmy  'Opkins  ;  "  old  "  Pa 
Flapper."  Asked  because  he  lent  the  van.  The  mean- 
ness of  his  subsequent  conduct.  "  Aunt  Snapper  ;  "  her 
imposing  appearance  in  her  ^^  caufy -coloured  front. ^' 
Bill  Blazer;  his  ^Wjirl,'^  and  his  accordion.  Mrs. 
Addick  {of  the  fried-fish  emporium  round  the  corner)  ; 
her  gentility — "  Never  seen  out  of  her  mittens,  and 
cdways  the  lady,  no  matter  ho2v  much  she  may  have 
taken.^'     From  this  icork  round  by  an  easy  transition  to — 

Tlie  Chorus — For  we  'ad  to  stop  o'  course, 
Jest  to  bait  the  bloomin'  'orse, 
So  Wd  pots  of  ale  and  porter 
(Or  a  drop  o'  something  shorter), 
While  he  drunk  his  pail  o'  water, 
He  was  sech  a  whale  on  water  ! 
That  more  water  than  he  oughter, 
More  water  than  he  oughter, 

Md  the  poor  old  'orse  ! 

Second  Stanza. 

That  'orse  he  was  a  rum  'un — a  queer  old  quadru-ped. 
At  every  public-'ouse  he  passed  he'd  cock  his  artfal  'ed  ! 
Sez  I :  "  If  he  goes  on  like  this,  we  shan't  see  Kew  to-night ! " 
Jim  'Opkins  winks  his  ejc,  and  sez — "We'll  git  along  all 
right!" 

Chorus — Though  we  'ave  to  stop  of  course, — &c.,  &c. 
[With  slight  textual  modifications. 

Third  Stanza, 

At  Kinsington  we  'alted,  'Ammersmith,  and  Turnham  Green, 
The  'orse  'ad  sech  a  thust  on  him,  its  like  was  never  seen  ! 


42  MR.    PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIG  HALL. 

With  every  'arf  a  mile  or  so,  that  animal  got  blown  : 

And  we  was  far  too  well  brought-up  to  let  'im  drink  alone  ! 

Chorus — As  we  'ad  to  stop,  o'  course,  &c. 

Fourth  Stanza, 

We  stopped  again  at  Chiswick,  till  at  last  we  got  to  Kew, 
But  when  we  reached  the  Gardings — well,  there  was  a  fine 

to-do ! 
The  Keeper,  in  his  gold-laced  tile,  was  shutting-to  the  gate, 
Sez  he  :  ''  There's  no  admittance  now — you're  just  arrived  too 

late !  " 

[Sijnopsis  of  spoken  Interlude :  Spirited  passage-at-arms 
heticeen  Mr.  Wm.  Blazer  and  the  Keeper  ;  singidar  action 
of  Pa  Plapper  ;  "  Z  icant  to  see  yer  Pagoder — bring  out 
yer  old  Pagoder  as  you're  so  p>roud  on!  "  Mrs.  Addick's 
disappointment  at  not  being  able  to  see  the  *'  Intemperate 
Plants,''  and  the  "  Pitcher  Shrub,"  once  more.  Her 
subsidence  in  tears,  on  the  floor  of  the  van.  Keeper 
concludes  the  dialogue  by  inquiring  wJiy  the  party  did  not 
arrive  sooner.  An'  tve  sez,  "  Well,  it  was  like  this,  ole 
cock  robin — d'yer  see  ?  " 

Chorus — We've  'ad  to  stop,  o'  course,  &c. 

Fifth  Stanza. 

"  Don't  fret,"  I  sez,  "  about  it,  for  they  ain't  got  much  to  see 
Inside  their  precious  Gardings — so  let's  go  and  'ave  some  tea! 
A  cup  I  seem  to  fancy  now — I  feel  that  faint  and  limp — 
With  a  slice  of  bread-and-butter,  and  some  creases,  and  a 
s'rimp !  " 

[Description  of  the  tea: — '^ And  the  s'rimp)s — ivell,  I  douH 


THE   FRANKLY    CANAILLE.  43 

want  to  say  anythinrj  against  the  sWimps — hut  it  did 
strike  me  they  iccre  feelin'  the  'eat  a  little — s'rimps  are 
liable  to  it,  and  you  can't  iwevent  'em."  After  tea. 
The  only  tune  Mr.  Blazer  could  play  on  his  accordion. 
Traffic  end  of  that  instrument.  How  the  ptarty  had  a 
''little  more  lush.'"  Scandalous  behaviour  of  ''Bill 
Blazer's  yirl.'"  The  company  consume  what  will  be 
elegantly  referred  to  as  "a  hit  o'  booze.''  Aunt  Snapper 
''gets  the  'ump."  The  outrage  to  her  front.  The 
proposal  to  start — whereupon,  "Mrs.  Addick,  ivho  tvas 
a'-settin'  on  the  geraniums  in  the  ivinder,  smilin  at  her 
hoots,  2c]iich  she'd  just  took  off  because  she  said  they 
stopped  her  breathing,"  protested  that  there  was  no 
hurry,  considering  that — 

Chorus,  as  before — We've  got  to  stop,  o'  course,  &c. 

SixtJt  Stanza. 

But  wlien  the  van  was  ordered,  we  found — what  do  yer  think  ? 

[To  the  Chef  d'Orchestre,  wJio  will  affect  complete  ignorance. 

That  miserable  'orse  'ad  been  an'  took  too  much  to  drink ! 
He  kep'  a  reeling  round  us,  like  a  circus  worked  by  steam, 
And,  'stead  o'  keeping  singular,  he'd  turned  into  a  team  ! 

[Disgust  of  the  party :  Pa  Flapper  proposes  to  go  back  to  the 
inn  for  more  refreshment,  urging — 

Chorus — ^ye  must  wait  awhile  o'  course, 

Till  they've  sobered  down  the  'orse. 
Just  another  pot  o'  porter 
Or  a  drop  o'  something*  shorter, 
AVhile  our  good  landlady's  daughter 
Takes  him  out  some  soda-warter. 


44  MR.    PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIC  HALL. 

For  lie's  'ad  more  than  he  oughter, 
He's  'ad  more  than  he  oughter, 

'As  the  poor  old  'orse  ! 

Seventh  Stanza, 

So,  when  they  hrought  the  'orse  round,  we  started  on  our 

way: 
'Twas  'orful  'ow  the  animal  from  side  to  side  would  sway ! 
Young  'Opldns  took  the  reins,  but  soon  in  slumber  he  was 

sunk — 
{Tndignantlij .)  When  a  interfering  Copper  ran  us  in  for  being 

drunk ! 

[Attitude  of  various  members  of  the  'party,  Umvarrantahle 
jjrocceding  on  the  part  of  the  Constable.  Bemonstrance 
by  Pa  Flapper  and  the  company  generally  in — 

Chorus — Why,  can't  yer  shee  ?  o'  coursh 
Tishn't  us — it  ish  the  'orsh  ! 
He's  a  whale  at  swilling  water, 
We've  'ad  only  ale  and  porter. 
Or  a  drop  o'  something  shorter. 
You  le'mme  go,  you  shnorter ! 
Don'  you  tush  me  till  you  oughter  ! 
Jus'  look  'ere — to  cut  it  shorter — 

Take  the  poor  old  'orsli ! 

[General  adjournment  to  the  Police-station.  Interview  trith 
the  Magistrate  on  the  folloiving  morning.  Mr.  Hopkins 
called  upon  to  state  his  defence^  replies  in — 

Chorus — Why,  your  wushup  sees,  o'  course, 
It  was  all  the  bloomin'  'orse  ! 
He  irould  'ave  a  pail  o'  water 
Every  'arf  a  mile  (or  quarter). 


THE   FRANKLY    CANAILLE. 


45 


Which  is  what  he  didn't  oughter  ! 
He  shall  stick  to  ale  or  porter, 
With  a  drop  o'  something  shorter, 
I'm  my  family's  supporter — 

Fine  the  poor  old  'orse  ! 

yilie  Magistrate's  view  of  the  case.  Couclucling  remark  that, 
notivithstanding  the  success  of  the  excursion,  as  awJiole — 
it  icill  he  some  time  before  the  singer  consents  to  go  upon 
any  excursion  with  a  horse  of  such  hihulous  tendencies  as 
those  of  the  quadruped  they  drove  to  Kew, 


""WUM 


The    Dramatic    Scena. 


viii.-THE    DRAMATIC    SCENA. 

This  is  always  a  popular  form  of  entertainment,  demand- 
ing, as  it  does,  even  more  dramatic  than  vocal  ability  on  the 
part  of  the  artist.  A  song  of  this  kind  is  nothing  if  not 
severely  moral,  and  frequently  depicts  the  downward  career  of 
an  incipient  drunkard  with  all  the  lurid  logic  of  a  Temperance 
Tract.  Mr.  Punch,  however,  is  inclined  to  think  that  the 
lesson  would  be  even  more  appreciated  and  taken  to  heart 
by  the  audience,  if  a  slightly  different  line  were  adopted 
such  as  he  has  endeavoured  to  indicate  in  the  following 
example  : — 

THE    DANGER    OF    MIXED    DRINKS. 

The  singer  sJiould  have  a  great  command  of  facial  e.iyression, 
which  he  iv ill  find  greatly  facilitated  hij  cmploDing  (as 
indeed  is  the  usaal  custom)  coloured  limelight  at  the 
wings. 

First  Verse  {to  he  sung  under  imre  u'hitc  light). 

He  {these  auful  exami:)les  are  usually,  and  quite  iwoperly, 
anonymous)  was  once  as  nice  a  fellow  as  you  could  desire 
to  meet, 

Partial  to  a  pint  of  porter,  always  took  his  spirits  neat ; 

Long  ago  a  careful  mother's  cautions  trained  her  son  to 
shrink 

Prom  the  meretricious  sparkle  of  an  aerated  drink. 


48  MR.    PUNCH'S   MODEL    MUSIC  HALL. 

lirfrain  {showing  the  virtuous  youth  o-csisting  temjptation. 
N.B.  The  refrain  is  intended  to  he  spohen  through  music. 
Not  sung.) 

Here's  a  pub  that's  liandy. 

Liquor  up  with  you  ? 
Thimbleful  of  brandy  ? 

Don't  mind  if  I  do. 
Soda-water  ?     No,  Sir. 

Never  touch  the  stuff. 
Promised  mother — so,  Sir. 

{With  an  upward  glance.) 

'Tisn't  good  enough  ! 

Second  Verse.     {Primrose  light  for  this.) 

Ah,  how  little  we  suspected,  as  we  saw  him  in  his  bloom, 
What  a  demon   dogged   his   footsteps,    luring   to   an  awful 

doom ! 
Vain  his  mother's  fond  monitions  ;  soon  a  friend,  with  fiendish 

laugh, 
Tempts   him   to   a   quiet  tea-garden,  plies  him  there   with 

shandy-gaff ! 

Refrain  {illustrating  the  first  false  step). 

Why,  it's  just  the  mixture 

I  so  long  have  sought ! 
Here  I'll  be  a  fixture 

Till  I've  drunk  the  quart ! 
Just  the  stuff  to  suit  yer. 

AVaiter,  do  you  hear  ? 
Make  it,  for  the  future, 

Three  parts  ginger-beer  ! 


THE   DRAMATIC   SCENA.  49 


Third  Verse  (requiring  vioh't-tiiited  dide). 

By-and-by,  the  ale  discarding,  ginger-beer  he  craves  alone. 

Undiluted  he  procures  it,  buys  it  bottled  up  in  stone. 

(The  carthenicare  hottles  are  said  hy  connoisseurs  to  contain 

liquor  of  sujyerior  strength  and  qualitg.) 
From  his  lips  the  foam  he  brushes — crimson  overspreads  his 

brow. 
To  his  brain  the  ginger's  mounting  !     Could  his  mother  see 

him  now  ! 

Refrain  (depicting  tlie  horrors  of  a  solitary  debauch  poisoned 
by  remorse). 

Shall  I  have  another  ? 

Only  ginger-pop  ! 
(Wildly.)  Ah!  I  promised  mother 

Not  to  touch  a  drop  ! 
Far  too  much  I'm  tempted. 

(Eecldessly.)  Let  me  drink  my  fill ! 
That's  the  fifth  I've  emptied — 

Oh,  I  feel  so  ill ! 

[Jh'i-e  the  singer  will  stagger  about  the  boards. 

Fourth  Verse.     (Turn  on  lurid  crimson  ray  for  this.) 

Next  with  drinks  they  style  "  teetotal  "  he  his  manhood  must 

degrade  ; 
Swilling  effervescent  syrups — "ice-cream-soda,"  ''raspberry- 

ade," 
Koumiss  tempts  his  jaded  palate — payment  he's  obliged  to 

bilk- 
Then,  reduced  to  destitution,  finds  forgetfulness  in — milk ! 


50  MR.    PUNCH'S   MODEL    MUSIC  HALL. 


Refrain  {indicating  rajnd  moral  deterioration). 

What's  tliat  on  the  railings  ? 

[Point  dramatically  at  imaginary  area. 

Miliv — and  in  a  can  ! 
Though  I  have  my  failings, 

I'm  an  honest  man. 

[Spark  of  expiring  rectitude  here^ 
I  can  7wt  resist  it.     [Pantomime  of  opening  can. 

That  celestial  hlue ! 
Has  the  milkman  missed  it  ?    [Melodramatically. 

i'll  he  missing  too  ! 

Fijth  Verse  {in  'p(de  hlue  light). 
Milk  hegets  a  taste  for  water,  so  comparatively  cheap. 
Every  casual  pump  supplies  him,  gratis,  with  potations  deep ;. 
He  at  every  drinking- fountain  pounces  on  the  pewter  cup. 
Conscious  of  becoming  bloated,  powerless  to  give  it  up  ! 

Refrain  {illustrative  of  litter  loss  of  self-respect). 

*'  Find  one  straight  before  me  ?  " 

Bobby,  you're  a  trump  ! 
Faintness  stealing  o'er  me — 

Ha— at  last — a  pump  ! 
If  that  Httle  maid  '11 

Just  make  room  for  one, 
I  could  grab  the  ladle 
After  she  has  done. 
Tlic  last  rerse  is  the  cidniinating  point  of  this  moral  drama: 
— The  miserable  wretch  has  reached  the  last  stage.     He 
shuts  himself  up  in  his  cheerless  abode,  and  there,  in 
shame  fid  secrecy,  consumes  the  clement  for  which  lie  is 
jmiverless  to  pay — the  inevitable  Nemesis  following. 


THE    DBAMATIC   SCENA.  51 


Sixth  Verse  {All  liglits  doicn  in  front.     Ghasthj  green  light  at 

icings). 
Up  his  sordid  stairs  in  secret  to  the  cistern  now  he  steals, 
Where,  amidst  organic  matter,  gambol  microscopic  eels ; 
Tremblingly  he  turns  the  tap  on — not  a  trickle  greets  the 

trough  ! 
For  the  stony-hearted  turncock's  gone  and  cut  his  water  off ! 

Ilefrain  {in  u-hicli  the  2)rofllgate  is  supposed  to  demand  an 
explanation  from  tlie  tu)'ncoeJ:,  with  a  terrible  denoiiment). 

"  Eate  a  quarter  owing, 

Comp'ny  stopped  supply." 
"  Set  the  stream  a-flowing, 

Demon — or  you  die  !  " 
''  Mercy  ! — ah  !  you've  choked  me  ! "' 

[In  hoarse,  strangled  volee  as  the  turncoel:. 
"  Will  you  turn  the  plug?  "    [Savagely  as  the  hero. 

"  No  !  "  [Faintly,  as  turneoel. 

[Business  of  flinging  a  corpse  on  stage,  and  regarding  it 
terror-stricken.     A  long  pause  ;  then,  in  a  whisper, — 

''  The  fool  provoked  me  ! 
{With  a  maniac  laugh.)     Horror  !     I'm  a  Thug  !  " 

[Here  the  artist  will  die,  mad,  in  frightful  agony,   and 
rise  to  how  his  acknowledgments. 


K  2 


The  Duettists. 


ix.-THE    DUETTISTS. 

The  "Duet  and  Dance"  form  so  important  a  feature  in 
Music-hall  entertainments,  that  they  could  hardly,  with  any 
propriety,  be  neglected  in  a  model  compilation  such  as  Mr. 
Punclt's,  and  it  is  possible  that  he  may  offer  more  than  one 
example  of  this  blameless  diversion.  For  some  reason  or 
other,  the  habit  of  singin<^-  in  pairs  would  seem  to  iaduce  a 
pessimistic  tone  of  mind  in  most  Music-hall  artistes,  nnd — 
wh}',  Mr.  Punch  does  not  pretend  to  saj' — this  cynicism  is 
always  more  marked  w^hen  the  performers  are  of  the  sjfter 
sex.  Our  present  study  is  intended  to  fultil  the  requirements 
of  the  most  confirmed  femule  sceptic,  and,  though  the 
Message  of  the  Music  Halls  may  have  been  given  worthier  and 
fuller  expression  by  pens  more  practised  in  such  compositions, 
Mr.  Punch  is  still  modestly  confident  that  this  ditty,  with  all 
its  shortcomings,  can  be  sung  in  any  Music  Hall  in  the 
Metropolis  without  exciting  any  sentiment  other  than  entire 
approval  of  the  teaching  it  conveys.  One  drawback,  indeed, 
it  has,  but  that  concerns  the  performers  alone.  For  the  sake 
of  affording  contrast  and  relief,  it  was  thought  expedient  that 
one  of  the  fair  duettists  should  profess  an  optimism  which 
may — perhaps  must — tend  to  impair  her  popularity.  A  con- 
scientious artiste  may  legitimately  object,  for  the  sake  of  her 
professional  reputation,  to  present  herself  in  so  humiliating  a 
character  as  that  of  an  infjenue,  and  a  female  "Juggins"; 


54  MM.    PUNCH'S   MODEL    MUSIC  HALL. 

and  it  does  seem  as  if  the  Cynical  Sister  must  inevitably 
monopolise  the  sympathies  of  an  enlightened  audience. 
However,  this  difficulty  is  less  formidable  than  it  appears ;  it 
should  bo  easy  for  the  Unsophisticated  Sister  to  convey  a 
subtle  suggestion  here  and  there,  possibly  in  the  incidental 
dance  between  the  verses,  that  she  is  not  really  inferior  to  her 
partner  in  smartness  and  knowledge  of  the  world.  But 
perhaps  it  would  be  the  fairest  arrangement  if  the  Sisters 
could  agree  to  alternate  so  ungrateful  a  voir. 

RHINO  ! 

First  Verse. 

First  Sister  {placing  three  of  tlic^fiurjers  of  her  left  hand  on 
her  heart,  and  extending  Iter  right  arm  in  timid  appeal). 
Dear  sister,  of  late  I'm  beginning  to  doubt 
If  the  world  is  as  black  as  they  paint  it. 

It  mayn't  be  as  bad  as  some  try  to  make  out 

Second   Sister    [a-ith   an  elaborate  mock  cuiisg.)     That  is  a 

discovery  !     Maynt  it  ? 
First  S.  {ahashed).  I'm  sure  there  are  sev'ral  who  aren't  a  bad 
lot. 
And  some  sort  of  principle  seem  to  have  got, 

For  they  act  on  the  square 

Second  S.  Don't  you  talk  tommy-rot ! 

It's  done  for  advertisement,  dint  it  ? 

Elf  rain. 

Second  S.  Why,  there's  nobody  at  bottom  any  better  than  the 

rest! 
First  S,     Are  you  sure  of  it  ? 
Second  S.  I'm  telling  you,  and  I  know. 


THE    DUETTISTS.  55 

The  principlo  tliey  act  upon's  whatever  pays  'em  best. 
And  the  only  real  religion  now  is — Rhino ! 

[The  last  icorcl  must  he  rendered  icith  fall  metallic  effect.  A 
step-dance,  expressive  of  conviction  on  one  ptci^t  and  in- 
cipient ivavering  on  the  other,  should  he  performed  hetioeen 
the  verses. 

Second  Verse. 

First  S.  (returninff,  shaken,  to  the  charge).     Some  ?(?imarried 

men  lead  respectable  lives. 
Second  S.  (decisively).     Well,  Fve  never  happened  to  meet 

them  ! 
First  S.  There  are  husbands  who're  always  polite  to  their 

wives. 
Second  S.  Of  course — if  their  better  halves  beat  them  ! 
First  S.  Some  tradesmen  have  consciences,  so  I've  heard  said ; 
Their  provisions  are  never  adulterated, 
But  they  treat  all  their  customers  fairly  instead. 
Second  S.    'Cause  they  don't  find  it  answer  to  cheat  them  ! 

Jlefraiii. 
Firsts.    /What? 
Second  S.  i  No, — They're  none  of  'em  at  bottom  any  better 

than  the  rest. 
Second  S.  I'm  speaking  from  experience,  and  /  know. 
If  you  could  put  a  window-pane  in  everybody's  breast 

You'd  see  on  all  the  hearts  was  written — '*  Rhino !  " 

Third  Verse. 

First  S.    There  are  girls  you  can't  tempt  with  a  title  or  gold. 
Second  S.  There  may  be — but  I've  never  seen  one. 
First  S.  Some  much  prefer  love  in  a  cottage,  I'm  told. 


50   '  MB.    PUNCH'S   MODEL    MUSIC  HALL. 


Seconds,  (imtting  her  arms  a-Jdmho).    If  you  swallow  that, 

you're  a  green  one  ! 
They'll  slick  to  their  lover  so  long  as  he's  cash, 
When  it's  gone,  they  look  out  for  a  wealthier  mash. 
A  girl  on  the  gush  talks  unpractical  trash — 

When  it  comes  to  the  point,  she's  a  keen  one  ! 

llcfrain. 

First  S.   Then,  are  none  of  us  at  hottom  any  hotter  than  the 

rest  ! 
Sccojid  S.  {cheerfuUy).    Not  a  hit ;  I  am  a  girl  myself  and  / 

know^ 
First  S.  You'd  surely  never  give  3'our  hand  to  someone  you 

detest  ? 
Second  S.  Why  rather — if  he's  rolling  in  the  Ehino  ! 


Fourth  Verse. 

First  S.  Philanthropists  give  up  their  lives  to  the  poor. 
Second  S,  It's  chiefly  with  tracts  they  present  them. 
First  S.  Still,  some  self-denial  I'm  sure  they  endure  ? 
Second  S.  It's  their  hohhy,  and  seems  to  content  them. 
First  S.  But  don't  they  go  into  those  horrihle  slums  ? 
Second   S.    Sometimes — with   a   flourish   of    trumpets    and 

drums. 
First  S,  I've  heard  they've  collected  magnificent  sums. 
Second  6'.  And  nohody  knows  how  they've  spent  them  ! 

Be/rain . 

Second  S.  Oh,  they're  none  of  'em  at  bottom  any  better  than 
the  rest ! 
They  are  only  bigger  hypocrites,  as  I  know^ ; 


THE    DUETT  mis. 


They've    famous    opportunities    for    feathering    their 
nest, 
When  so  many  fools  are  ready  with  the  Ehino  ! 

Fifth  Verse. 

First  S.  Our  Statesmen  are  prompted  by  duty  alone. 
Second  S.   {com2)assio7uiteli/).     AYhoever's   been   gammoning 

you  so  ? 
First  S,  They  wouldn't  seek  office  for  ends  of  their  own  ? 
Second  S.  What  else  would  induce  'em  to  do  so  ? 
First  S.  But  Time,  Health,  and  Money  they  all  sacrifico. 
Second  S.  I'd  do  it  myself  at  a  quarter  the  price. 

There's  pickings  for  all,  and  they  needn't  ask  twice, 
For  they're  able  to  put  on  the  screw  so  ! 

llvfrain  {tofi ether). 

No,    they're   none   of  'em   at   bottom   any   better   than   the 
rest ! 

They  may  kid  to  their  constituents — but  I  know  ; 
AVhatever  loft}^  sentiments  their  speeches  may  suggest, 

They  regulate  their  actions  by  the  llhino  ! 

[Here  the  imir  will  perform  a  final  step-dance,  indicative  of 
enlightened  scepticism,  and  skip  off  in  an  effusion  of 
sisterly  sympathy,  amidst  enthusiastic  aj)j)lause. 


Disinterested  Tassiox. 


x.-DISINTERESTED    PASSION. 

When  a  ^lusic-liall  singer  does  not  treat  of  tlie  tender 
-passion  in  a  rakish  and  knowing  spirit,  lie  is  apt  to  exhibit  an 
unworldliness  truly  ideal  in  its  noble  indifference  to  all  social 
distinctions.  So  amiable  a  tendency  deserves  encouragement, 
and  Mr.  Punch  lias  much  pleasure  in  offering  the  follo^Ying 
little  idyl  to  the  notice  of  any  Mammoth  Comique  who  may 
happen  to  be  in  a  sentimental  mood.  It  is  supposed  to  be 
sung  by  a  scion  of  the  nobility,  and  the  artiste  will  accord- 
ingly present  himself  in  a  brown  '*  billy-cock  "  hat,  a  long  grey 
frock-coat,  fawn-coloured  trousers,  white  "  spats,"  and  prim- 
rose, or  green,  gloves — the  recognised  attire  of  a  jNIusic-hall 
aristocrat.  A  powerful, — though  not  necessarily  tuneful, — 
voice  is  desirable  for  the  adequate  rendering  of  this  ditty ; 
iiny  words  it  is  inconvenient  to  sing,  can  always  be  spoken. 


ONLY     A     LITTLE     PLEBEIAN! 

First  l^erse. 

When    lirst    I    met   my   Mary   Ann,    she    stood   behind   a 
barrow — 
A  bower  of  enchantment  spread  with  many  a  dainty  snack  ! 
And,   as  I  gazed,  I  felt  my  heart  transfixed  with  Cupid's 
arrow. 
For  she  opened  all  her  oysters  with  so  fairylike  a  knack. 


CO  Mil.  ruKcirs  model  music  hall. 


Befrahi  {throaiy,  hut  tender). 

She's  only  a  little  Plebeian  ! 

And  I'm  a  Patrician  swell ! 
But  she's  as  sweet  as  Aurora,  and  how  I  adore  her, 

No  eloquence  ever  can  tell ! 
Only  a  fried-fish  vend-ar  ! 

Selling  her  saucers  of  wliilks, 

[Almost  defiant  stress  on  the  uord  "  ultills.''' 
But,  for  me,  she's  as  slend-ar — far  more  true  and  tend-ar, 
Than  if  she  wore  satins  and  silks  ! 

[The  f/rammar  of  tJie  last  tiro  lines  is  shalij,  hut  the  Lion- 
Comique  must  try  to  jnit  up  with  that,  and,  after  all,  does 
sincere  emotion  ever  stop  to  think  about  grammar  I  If  it 
does,  Mnsic-hall  audiences  don't — uliicli  is  the  main 
point. 

Second  Verse. 

I  longed  before  her  little  feet  to  grovel  in  the  gutter  : 

I  vowed,  unless  I  Avon  her  as  a  wife,   'twould  drive  me 
mad ! 
Until  at  last  a  shy  consent  I  coaxed  her  lips  to  utter, 

For   she   dallied   with   her  Anglo-Dutch,   and   whispered, 
"  Speak  to  Dad  !  " 

Piefrain—FoY  she's  only  a  little  Plebeian,  ^^  c. 

Third  Verse, 

I   called   upon    her    sire,    and    found   him    lowly   born,   but 
brawny, 
A  noble  type,  when  sober,  of  the  British  artisan  ; 
I  grasped  his  honest  hand,  and  didn't  mind  its  being  horny  : 


DISINTERESTED    FASSION.  Gl 


*' Behold!"  I   cried,   ''a  suitor  for  your  daughter,  Mary 
Ann  !  " 

Ih'frain — Though  she's  only  a  little  Plebeian,  &c. 


Fourth  Verse. 

"You    ask   me,    gov'nor,    to    resign,"    said    he,    ''my   only 
treasure. 
And  so  a  toff  her  fickle  heart  away  from  me  has  won  !  " 
He  turned  to  mask  his  manly  woe  behind  a  pewter  measure — ■ 
Then,  breathing  blessings  through  the  beer,  he  said ;   *'  All 
right,  my  son  ! 

llefraln — If  she's  only  a  little  Plebeian, 

And  you're  a  Patrician  swell," — S:c. 

Fifth  Verse, 

{The  author  flatters  himself  tJiat,  in  quiet  sentiment  and 
liomehj pathos  he  has  seldom  done  anythiny  finer  tJian  the 
tu-o  succeeding  stanzas.) 

Next  I  sought  my  noble  father  in  his  old  ancestral  castle, 
And  at  his  gouty  foot  my  love's  fond  oftering  I  laid — 

A  simple  gift  of  shellfish,  in  a  neat  brown-paper  parcel ! 

*'Ah,  Sir!"  I  cried,  "if  you  could  know,   you'd  love  my 
little  maid  !  " 

Ilefrain — True,  she's  only  a  little  Plebeian,  S:c. 

SixtJi  Verse. 

Beneath    his    shaggy    eyebrows     soon    I    saw    a    tear-drop 
twinkle  ; 
That    artless    present    overcame     his    stubborn    Xorman 
pride  ! 


0)2  Mil.  rumm's  model  music  hall. 


And  when  I  made  him  taste  a  whilk,  and  tiy  a  periwinkle, 
His   last   objections   vanished — so    she's    soon   to   be  my 
bride  ! 

lie f rain — Ah  I  she's  only  a  little  Plebeian,  kc. 


Seventh   Verce. 

Now  heraldry's  a  science  that  I  haven't  studied  much  in, 
But  I  mean  to  ask  the  College — if  it's  not  against  their 

rules — 
That   three   periwinkles   proper   may   be    quartered   on   our 

'scutcheon, 
"With  a  wliilk   regardant,    rampant,    on  an  oyster-knife,   all 

gules ! 

Refrain — As  she's  only  a  little  Plebeian,  Sec. 


This  little  ditty,  which  has  the  true,  unmistakable  ring- 
about  it,  and  will,  Mr.  Punch  believes,  touch  the  hearts  of 
any  Music-hall  audience,  is  entirely  at  the  service  of  any 
talented  artiste  who  will  undertake  to  fit  it  with  an  appropriate 
melody,  and  sing  it  in  a  spirit  of  becoming  seriousness. 


xi.-THE    PANEGYRIC    PATTER. 

This  ditty  is  designed  to  give  some  expression  to  the 
passionate  enthusiasm  for  nature  which  is  occasionally  ob- 
servable in  the  Music-hall  songstress.  The  young  lady  who 
sings  these  verses  will  of  course  appear  in  appropriate 
costume  ;  viz.,  a  large  white  hat  and  feathers,  a  crimson 
sunshade,  a  pink  frock,  high-heeled  sand-shoes,  and  a  liberal 
extent  of  black  silk  stockings.  A  phonetic  spelling  has  been 
adopted  where  necessary  to  bring  out  the  rhyme,  for  the 
convenience  of  the  reader  only,  as  the  singer  will  instinctively 
give  the  vowel- sounds  the  pronunciation  intended  by  the 
author. 

THE     JOYS     OF     THE     SEA-SIDE. 

First  Verse. 

On,  I  love  to  sit  a-gyzing  on  the  boundless  blue  horizing, 
When  the  scorching  sun  is  blyzing  down  on  sands,  and 
ships,  and  sea ! 
And  to  watch  the  busy  figgers  of  the  happy  little  diggers. 
Or  to  listen  to  the  niggers,  when  they  choose  to  come  to 
me  ! 

Chorus  (to  wJiieJi  the  s'uifjer  HJinidd  sicuf/  in  2i' alt z -time). 

For  I'm  offuUy  fond  of  the  Seaside  ! 
If  I'd  only  my  w'y  I  would  <'/e-cide 


04  MB.    PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIC   HALL. 

To  dwell  evermore, 
By  the  murmuring  shore, 
With  the  billows  a-hlusteriug  he-sidie  ! 

Second  Verse. 

Then    how   pleasant    of   a   morning,   to   be   up   before    the 
doming  ! 
And  to  sally  forth  a-prorning — e'en  if  nothing  back  you 
bring ! 
Some  young  men  who  like  fatigue  '11  go  and  try  to  pot  a  sea- 
gull. 
What's  the  odds  if  it's  illegal,  or  the  bird  they  only  wing? 

Chorus — For  it's  one  of  the  sports  of  the  ^Sea-side  !  ka. 

Third  Verse, 

Then  what  j'y  to  go  a  by  thing — though  you'll  swim,  if  you're 
a  sly  thing, 
Like  a  mermaid  nimbly  writhing,  with  a  foot  upon  the 
sand ! 
When  you're  tired  of  old  Poseidon,  there's  the  pier  to  pro- 
menide  on, 
Strauss,  and  Sullivan,  and  Haydn  form  the  programme  of 
the  band. 

Chorus — For  there's  always  a  band  at  the  Sea-side  !  &c. 

Fourth  Verse. 

And,    with   boatmen    so   beguiling,    sev'ral    parties   go   out 
siling  ! 
Sitting  all  together  smiling,  handing  sandwiches  about, 
To  the  sound  of  concertiner, — till  they're  gradually  greener, 


The   Pai^egyeic   Patter. 


66  MB.    PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIC  HALL. 

And  they  wish  the  ham  was  leaner,  as  they  sip  their  bottled 
stout. 

Chorus — And  they  cry,  **  Put  us  back  on  the  Sea-side  !  "  &c. 

Fifth  Verse, 

There    is    j^leasure   unalloyed   in  hiring   hacks    and    going 
roiding ! 
(If  you  stick  on  tight,  avoiding  any  cropper  or  mishap,) 
Or  about   the  rocks   you  ramble  ;    over   boulders   slip   and 
scramble ; 
Or  sit  down  and  do  a  gamble,  playing  **Loo"  or  "Penny 
Nap." 

Chorus — *'  Penny  Nap  "  is  the  gyme  for  the  Sea-side  !  &c. 

Sixth  Verse. 

Then  it's  lovely  to  be  spewning,  all   the   glamour   of    the 
mown  in, 
With  your  love  his  banjo  tewning,  ere  flirtation  can  begin  ! 
As  along  the  sands  you're  strowling,  till  the  hour  of  ten  is 
towling. 
And  your  Ma,  severely  scowling,  asks  "Wherever  you  have 
bin  !  " 

Chorus — Then  you  answer  "  I've  been  by  the  Sea-side !  "  c^c. 

Seventh  Verse, 

Should  the  sky  be  dark  and  frowning,  and  the  restless  winds 
be  mowning. 
With  the  breakers'  thunder  drowning  all  the  laughter  and 
the  glee ; 


THE   PANEGYRIC   PATTER.  67 


And  the  day  should  prove  a  drencher,  out  of  doors  you  will 
not  ventcher, 
Eut  you'll  read  the  volumes  lent  yer  by  the  Local  Libraree ! 

Chorus — For  there's  sure  to  be  one  at  the  >Sea-side  !  &c. 

Eighth  Verse. 

If   the    weather    gets    no   calmer,   you    can    patronise   the 
dramer, 
AVhere  the  leading  lady  charmer  is  a  chit  of  forty- four  ; 
And  a  duty  none  would   skirk   is   to   attend   the   strolling 
circus, 
For  they'd  all  be  in  the  w^orkhouse,  should  their  antics  cease 
to  dror ! 

Chorus— kndi  they're  part  of  the  joys  of  the  >Sea-side  !    &c. 

Encore  Verse  {to  he  used  only  in  case  of  emergency), 

Well,  I  reelly  must  be  go  wing— I've  just  time  to  make  my 
bow  in — 
But  I  thank  you  for  allowing  me  to  patter  on  so  long. 
And  if,  like  me,  you're  pining  for  the  breezes  there's  some 
brine  in. 
Why,  I'll  trouble  you  to  jine  in  with  the  chorus  to  my  song ! 

Chorus  {all  together)— Oh,  we're  offully  fond  of  the  Sea- 
side !  Sec. 


F   2 


The   Plaintively   Pathetic. 


xii.-THE  PLAINTIVELY  PATHETIC. 

A  Music-hall  audieDce  will  always  be  exceedingly  suscep- 
tible to  pathos — so  long  as  they  clearly  understand  that  the 
song  is  not  intended  to  be  of  a  comic  nature.  However,  there 
is  very  little  danger  of  any  misapprehension  in  the  case  of  our 
present  example,  which  is  as  natural  and  affecting  a  little 
song  as  any  that  have  been  moving  the  Music  Halls  of  late. 
The  ultra- fastidious  may  possibly  be  repelled  by  what  they 
would  term  the  vulgarity  of  the  title, — "  The  Xight-light 
Ever  Burning  by  the  Bed  " — but,  although  it  is  true  that  this 
humble  luminary  is  now  more  generally  called  a  '' Fairy 
Lamp,"  persons  of  true  taste  and  refinement  will  prefer  the 
homely  simplicity  of  its  earlier  name.  The  song  only  con- 
tains three  verses,  which  is  the  regulation  allowance  for 
Music-hall  pathos,  the  authors  probably  feeling  that  the 
audience  could  not  stand  any  more.  It  should  be  explained 
that  the  *'tum-tum"  at  the  end  of  certain  lines  is  not  in- 
tended to  be  sung — it  is  merely  an  indication  to  the  orchestra 
to  pinch  their  violins  in  a  lyizzicato  manner.  The  singer 
should  either  come  on  as  a  serious  black  man — for  burnt  cork 
is  a  marvellous  provocative  of  pathos — or  as  his  ordinary  self. 
In  either  case  he  should  wear  evening  dress,  with  a  large 
brilliant  on  each  hand. 


70  MB.    PUNCH'S  MODEL   MUSIC  HALL. 


THE  NIGHT-LIGHT  EVER   BURNING 
BY    THE    BED. 

Fii^sf  Verse, 

I've  been  thinking  of  the  home  where  my  early  years  were  spent, 

'Neath  the  care  of  a  kind  maiden  aunt,  {Tam'tum-tum  !) 
And  to  go  there  once  again  has  been  often  my  intent, 

But  the  railway  fare's  expensive,  so  I  can't !     (Tum-tuTnl) 
Still  I  never  can  forget  that  night  when  last  we  met : 

*'  Oh,  promise  me — whate'er  you  do  !  "  she    said,   {Tarn' 
inm-tam !) 
*'  Wear  flannel  next  your  chest,  and,  when  you  go  to  rest, 
Keep  a  night-light  always  burning  by  your  bed  !  "     {Tum- 
tum!) 

He f rain  (pianissimo.) 

And  my  eyes  are  dim  and  wet  ; 
For  I  seem  to  hear  them  yet — 
Those  solemn  words  at  parting  that  she  said :  (Tain-iMm.- 
turn  !) 

"Now,  mind  you  burn  a  night-light, 

— 'Twill  last  until  it's  quite  light — 

In  a  sauc^ful  of  water  by  your  bed  !  "     {Tum-iMm. !) 

Second  Verse. 

I  promised  as  she  wished,  and  her  tears  I  gently  dried, 
As  she  gave  me  all  the  halfpence  that  she  had  :  {Tum-iMm.' 
turn  !) 
And  through  the  world  e'er  since  I  have  wandered  far  and 
wide. 
And  been  gradually  going  to  the  bad  !     (Tuvi-tum  !) 


THE   PLAINTIVELY   PATHETIC. 


Many  a  folly,  many  a  crime  I've  committed  in  my  time, 

For  a  lawless  and  a  chequered  life  I've  led !   (Tiim-tiim-tum.) 
Still  I've  kept  the  promise  sworn — flannel  next  my  skin  I've 

worn. 
And  I've  always  bm-nt  a  night-light  by  my  bed  !    {Tum-inm  !) 

Befrain, 
All  unhallowed  my  pursuits, 
(Oft  to  bed  I've  been  in  boots  !) 
Still  o'er  my  uneasy  slumber  has  been  shed  (Tum-inm-tiim  I) 
The  moderately  bright  light 
Afforded  by  a  night-light. 
In  a  saucerful  of  water  by  my  bed  !     {Tum-inm  !) 

Third  Verse,     {To  he  sung  zuifh  increasing  solemnity,) 
A  little  while  ago,  in  a  dream  my  aunt  I  saw ; 

In  her  frill- surrounded  night- cap  there  she  stood  ! 

{Tum-tum-tum  !) 
And  I  sought  to  hide  my  head  'neath  the  counterpane  in  awe. 
And  I  trembled — for  my  conscience  isn't  good !   {Tum-iwrn !) 
But  her  countenance  was  mild — so  indulgently  she  smiled 
That  I  knew  there  was  no  further  need  for  dread  !     {Tum- 
tum-tum  !) 
She  had  seen  the  flannel  vest  enveloping  my  chest. 

And  the  night-light  in  its  saucer  by  my  bed  !    {Tum-iwrn  !) 

Refrain  {more  piajiissimo  still.) 

But  ere  a  word  she  spoke, 

I  unhappily  awoke  ! 

And  away,  alas  !  the  beauteous  vision  fled  !     {Tum-tum-tum !) 

{In  mournful  recitation) — There  was  nothing  but  the  slight 

light 

Of  the  melancholy  night-light 
That  was  burning  in  a  saucer  by  my  bed  !     {Tum-tum  !) 


The   Military   Impeesonatci. 


♦  xiii.-THE 

MILITARY    IMPERSONATOR. 

To  be  a  successful  Military  Impersonator,  the  principal 
requisite  is  a  uniform,  which  may  be  purchased  for  a  moderate 
sum,  second-hand,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  almost  any 
barracks.  Some  sHght  acquaintance  with  the  sword  exercise 
and  elementary  drill  is  useful,  though  not  absolutely  essential. 
Furnished  with  these,  together  with  a  few  commanding 
attitudes,  and  a  song  possessing  a  spirited,  martial  refrain, 
the  Military  Impersonator  may  be  certain  of  an  instant  and 
striking  success  upon  the  Music-hall  stage, — especially  if  he 
will  condescend  to  avail  himself  of  the  ballad  provided  hj  Mr. 
Punch,  as  a  vehicle  for  his  peculiar  talent.  And — though  we 
say  it  ourselves — it  is  a  very  nice  ballad,  to  which  IMr. 
McDougall  himself  would  find  it  difficult  to  take  exception. 
It  is  in  three  verses,  too — the  limit  understood  to  be  formally 
approved  by  the  London  County  Council  for  such  productions. 
It  may  be,  indeed,  that  (save  so  far  as  the  last  verse 
illustrates  the  heroism  of  our  troops  in  action — a  heroism  too 
real  and  too  splendid  to  be  rendered  ridiculous,  even  by 
Military  Impersonators),  the  song  does  not  convey  a  par- 
ticularly accurate  notion  of  the  manner  and  pursuits  of  an 
officer  in  the  Guards.  But  then  no  Music-hall  ditty  can  ever 
be  accepted  as  a  quite  infallible  authority  upon  any  social  type 
it   may   undertake   to    depict  —  with   the   single   exception, 


74  MR.    PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIC  BALL. 

perhaps,  of  the  Common  (or  Howling)  Cad.  So  that  any 
lack  of  actuality  here  will  be  rather  a  merit  than  a  blemish  in 
the  eyes  of  an  indulgent  audience.  Having  said  so  much,  we 
will  proceed  to  our  ballad,  which  is  called, — 

IN     THE     GUARDS! 

First  Verse, 

Fm  a  Guardsman,  and  my  manner  is  perhaps  a  bit  **  haw- 
haw;" 

But  when  you're  in  the  Guards  you've  got  to  show  esprit  de 
corps. 

[Pronounce  "  a  spreedy  core.''' 

"We  look  such  heavy  swells,  you  see,  we're  all  aristo-crats, 
When  on  parade  we  stand  arrayed  in  our  'eavy  bearskin  'ats. 

Chorus  {during  ivJiich  the  Martial  Star  ivill  inarch  round  the 
stage  in  military  order.) 

We're  all  "  'Ughies,"  "Berties,"  *'  Archies," 

In  the  Guards  !  Doncher  know  ? 
Twisting  silky  long  moustarches, 

[Suit  the  action  to  the  word  here. 

Bein'  Guards  !  Doncher  know  ? 
While  our  band  is  playing  Marches, 

For  the  Guards  !  Doncher  know  ? 
And  the  ladies  stop  to  gaze  upon  the  Guards, 

'Bing-Bang  ! 

[Here  a  member  of  the  orchestra  will  oblige  with  the  cymbals ^ 
while  the  Vocalist  performs  a  military  salute,  as  he  passes 
to— 


THE   MILITARY   JMPEBSONATOB. 


Second  Verse, 

With  duchesses  I'm  'and  in  glove,  with  countesses  I'm  thick; 
From  all  the  nohs  I  get  invites — they  say  I  am  *'  so  chic!  " 

[Pronounce  '' cJiick.'* 
It  often  makes  me  laugh  to  read,  whene'er  I  go  off  guard, 
*'  Dear  Bertie,  come  to  my  At  Home  !  "  on  a  coronetted  card! 

CJwriis, 

For  we're  '' Berties,"  '"Ughies,"  "Archies," 

In  the  Guards  !  Doncher  know  ? 

^Yith  our  silky  long  moustarches. 

In  the  Guards  !    Doncher  know  ? 

Where's  a  regiment  that  marches 

Like  the  Guards  ?  Doncher  know  ? 

All  the  darlings — bless  'em  ! — dote  upon  the  Guards, 

Bing-Bang  ! 

Third  Verse. 

[Here  comes  the  Singer's  great  chance,  and  hy  merely  taking  a 
little  jxiins,  he  may  make  a  tremendously  effective  thing 
out  of  it.  If  he  can  manage  to  slip  away  hetween  the 
verses,  and  change  his  bearskin  and  scarlet  coat  for  a 
solar  topee  and  kharkee  tunic  at  the  wings,  it  ic ill  produce 
an  enormous  amount  of  enthusiasm,  only  he  must  not  take 
more  tJian  Jive  minutes  over  tJiis  alteration,  or  the 
audience — so  curiously  are  British  audiences  constituted 
— may  grow  impatient  for  his  return. 

But  hark  !  the  trumpet  sounds  !  .  .  .  {Here  a  member  of  the 
orchestra  tvill  oblige  upon  the  trumpet.)  What's  this  ? 
.  .  .  {The  Singer  will  take  a  folded  paper  from  his  breast 
and  peruse  it  with  attention.)  We're  ordered  to  the 
front !  [This  should  be  shouted. 


76  MB.    PUNCH'S  MODEL   MUSIC  HALL. 

We'll   show  the   foe   how   "Carpet-Knights'*  can  face  the 

battle's  brunt ! 
They  laugh  at  us  as  "  Brummels  " — but  we'll  prove  ourselves 

"  Bay-yards  !  " 

[Noiv  the  Martial  Star  will  draw  Ids  sioord  and  unfasten  his 
revolver-case,  taking  up  the  exact  pose  in  which  he  is 
represented  upon  the  posters  outside. 

As  you  were !  .  .  .  Form  Square !  .  .  .  Mark  Time  !  .  .  .  Slope 
Arms !  .  .  .  now — 'Tention  !  .  .  .  {These  military  evolu- 
tions should  all  he  gone  through  by  the  Artist.)  Forward, 
Guards  !  [To  he  yelled  through  music. 

Chorus. 
Onward  every  'ero  marches, 

In  the  Guards  !  Doncher  know  ? 
All  the  ''  'Ughies,"  ''  Berties,"  "  Archies," 

Of  the  Guards  !  Doncher  know  ? 
They  may  twist  their  long  moustarches. 

For  they're  Guards  !  Doncher  know  ? 
Dandies  ?  yes, — but  dandy  lions  are  the  Guards  ! 

Bing-J5rt7i^  / 

IRed  fire  and  smoke  at  ivings,  as  curtain  falls  upon  the 
Military  Impersonator  in  the  act  of  changing  to  a  new 
attitude. 


MODEL   MUSIC   HALL. 


DRAMAS. 


(    \ 


TnE   Little   Chossing-Sweeper. 


i.-THE 
LITTLE    CROSSING-SWEEPER. 

Dramatis  Person.^. 

The  LittJe  CroBsing-Siceeper.     By  the  unrivalled  \  ^^^^^  ^^^^^  -^ 
Variety  Artist     .         .         .         .         •     •  i 

The  Diilie  of  Dilhvater Mr.  Henry  Irving. 

[Specially  engaged  ;  Mr.  Punch  is  sure  that  he  luill  cheerfully  make 
some  slight  sacrifice  for  so  good  a  cause,  and  he  can  easily  slip 
out  and  get  hack  again  hetween  the  Acts  of  "  Henry  the  8th.'* 

A  Policeman Mr.  Eutlaxd  Barrixgtox. 

[Engaged,  at  enormous  expense,  during  the  entire  run  of  this  plec^-. 
A  Butler  {his  origimd  part)        ....     Mr.  Arthur  Cecil. 
Foot-passengers,  Flunkeys,  Burglars, — By  the  celebrated  Knockabout 
Quick-change  Troupe. 

Scene  I. — Exterior  of  the  Duke's  JSlans'ion  in  Euston  Square 
hy  niglit.  On  the  right,  a  realistic  Moon  {hy  hind  jier- 
mission  of  Professor  Herkomer)  is  rising  slowly  behind 
a  lamp-post.  On  left  centre,  a  practicable  pillar-box, 
and  crossing,  with  real  mud.  Slow  Music,  as  Miss 
Jenny  Jinks  enters,  in  rags,  icitli  broom.  Various 
Characters  cross  the  street,  post  letters,  tCc. ;  Miss  Jinks 
follows  them,  begging  piteously  for  a  copper,  u'hicli  is 
invariably  refused,  whereupon  she  assails  them  witit 
choice  specimens  of  street  sarcasm — which  the  Lady  may 
be  safely  trusted  to  improvise  for  herself. 


80  MR.    PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIC  HALL. 

Miss  Jenny  Jinks  {leaning  despondently  against  pillar-hox, 
on  tvliich  a  ray  of  limelight  falls  in  the  opposite  direction 
to  the  Moon). 
Ah,  this  cruel  London,  so  marble- 'arted  and  vast, 
Where  all  who  try  to  act  honest  are  condemned  to  fast ! 

Enter  two  Burglars,  cautiously. 

First  B.  {to  Miss  J.  J.)     We  can  put  you  up  to  a  fake  as 
will  be  worth  your  while, 
For  you  seem  a  sharp,  'andy  lad,  and  just  our  style  ! 

[They  proceed  to  unfold  a  scheme  to  break  into  the  Ducal 
abode,  and  offer  Miss  J.  a  share  of  the  spoil,  if  she 
u'ill  allow  herself  to  he  put  through  the  p>antvy 
window. 

Miss  J.  J.  {proudly).     I  tell  yer  I  won't  'ave  nothinkto  do 
with  it,  fur  I  ain't  been  used 
To  sneak  into  the  house  of  a  Dook  to  whom  I  'aven't  been 

introdooced ! 
Second  Burglar  {coarsely).     Stow    that    snivel,   yer    young 

himp,  we  don't  want  none  of  that  bosh  ! 

Miss  J.  J.  {with  spirit).     You  hold  your  jaw — for,  when  you 

opens  yer  mouth,  there  ain't  much  o'  yer  face  left  to 

wash  ! 

[The  Burglars   retire,  hafied,  and  muttering.     Miss  J. 

leans  against  pillar-hox  again — hut  more  irresolutely, 

I've  arf  a  mind  to  run  after  'em,  I  'ave,  and  tell  'em  I'm  game 

to  stand  in !  .  .  . 
But,  ah, — didn't   my  poor  mother  say  as   Burglary  was  a 
Sin  ! 
[Duke  crosses  stage  in  a  hurry ;    as  he  imlls  out  his 
latchkey,  a  threepenny-oit  falls  unregarded,  except 
by  the  little  Sweeper,  who  pounces  eagerly  upon  it. 


THE   LITTLE    CROSSING-SWEEPER.  81 

What's  this  ?     A  bit  o'  good  luck  at  last  for  a  starvin'  orfin 

hoy! 
What  shall  I  huj  ?     I  know — I'll  have  a  cup  of  cawfy,  and  a 

prime  saveloy  ! 
Ah, — hit  it  ai?i't  mine — and  'ark  .  .  .  that  music  up  in  the 

air  ! 

[.4  Jiaiy  is  heard  in  the  files. 

Can  it  he  mother  a-plavin'  on  the  'arp  to  warn  her  hoy  to 

beware  ? 
(AwestnieJc.)    There's    a    angel    voice   that  is   sayin'   plain 

{solemnly)  "  Him  as  prigs  what  isn't  his'n, 
Is  sure  to  be  copped  some  day — and  then — his  time  he  will 

do  in  prison  !  " 

[Goes  resolutehj  to    the   door,  and   hnochs — The   Duke 
throws  open  the  portals. 

Miss  J.  '/.    If  yer  please,  Sir,  was  you  aware  as  you've 

dropped  a  thruppenny-bit  ? 
The  Duke  {after  examinina  the  coin.)    'Tis  the  very  piece  I 

have   searched  for   everywhere  !     You  rascal,  you've 

stolen  it  / 
Miss  J.  J.  {hitterh/).  And  that's  'ow  a  Dook  rewards  honesty 

in  tJiis  world  ! 

[This  line  is  sure  of  a  round  of  applause. 

The   Duke    {calling  oft).     Policeman,   I   give  this  lad  in 
charge  for  a  shameless  attem2:)t  to  rob, 

Enter  Policeman. 

Unless  he  confesses  instantly  who  put  him  up  to  the  job  ! 
Miss  J.  J.  {earnestly) .  I've  told  yer  the  bloomin'  truth,  I  'ave 
— or  send  I  may  die  ! 


82  MR.    PUNCH'S   MODEL    MUSIC   HALL. 

I'm  on'y  a  Crossing-sweeper,  Sir,  but  I'd  scorn  to  tell  yer  a 

lie! 
Give  me  a  quarter  of  a  hour — no  more — just  time  to  kneel 

clown  and  pray. 
As  I  used  to  at  mother's  knee  long  ago — then  the  Copper  kin 

lead  me  away. 

[Kneels  in  lime-Ught.  The  Policeman  turns  away,  and 
^ises  his  JLeindkcr chief  violently  ;  the  Duke  rubs  Ids 
eyes. 

The  Bake.  No,  blow  me  if  I  can  do  it,  for  I  feel  my  eyes  are 
all  twitching  ! 
{With,  conviction.)     If  he's   good   enough   to   kneel   by  his 
mother's  side,  he's  good  enough  to  be  in  my  hitching ! 

[Duke  dismisses  Constable,  and,  after  disappearinfi  into 
the  Mansion  for  a,  mo)nent,  returns  witJt  a  neat 
Page's  livery,  which  he  irresents  to  the  little  Crossing- 
sweeper. 

]\.liss  J.  J.  (naively).     'Ow  much  shall  I  ask  for  on  this, 

Sir  ?     What !     Yer  don't  mean  to  say  they're  for  me  ! 

Am  I  really  to  be  a  Page  to  one  of  England's  proud  aristocra-cee  ? 

{Does  some  stej^s. 

JMcchanical  change  to  Scene  II. — State  Ajnirtmott  at  the 
Duke's.  Magnificent  furniture,  gilding,  chandeliers. 
Suits  of  genuine  old  armour.  Statuary  {lent  by  British 
and  Kensington  Museums). 

Enter  Miss  J.,  with  her  face  trashed,  and  looking  j^articidarly 
jdtunp  171  Iter  Page's  livery.     She  ivanders  about  stagCj 


THE   LITTLE    CROSSING-SWEEPEB.  83 

making  any  humorous  comments  that  may  occur  to  her  on 
the  armour  and  statuary.  She  might  also  play  tricks  on 
the  Butler,  and  kiss  the  maids — all  of  ivhicli  will  serve  to 
relieve  the  piece  hy  delicate  touches  of  comedy,  and 
delight  a  discriminating  audience. 

Enter  the  Duke. 

I  hope,  my  lad,  that  we  are  making  3'ou  comfortable  here  ? 

[Kindly. 
Miss  J.  J.    Never  was  in  such  slap-up  quarters  in  my  life, 
Sir,  I'll  stick  to  yer,  no  fear ! 

[In  the  course  of  conversation  tlte  Duke  learns  with 
aristocratic  surprise,  that  tlte  Page's  Mother  was  a 
Singer  at  the  Music  Halls. 

Miss  J.  J.  What,  don't  know  what  a  Music-'all's  like  ? 
and  you  a  Dook  !  Well,  you  are  a  jolly  old  juggins  !  'Ere, 
you  sit  down  on  this  gilded  cheer— that's  the  ticket — I'll 
bring  you  your  champagne  and  your  cigars — want  a  light  ? 
(Strikes  match  on  Jier  pantaloons.)  Now  you're  all  comfortable. 

The  Duke  sits  down,  smiling  indulgently,  out  of  her  icay,  ichlle 
she  introduces  her  popular  Vocal  Character  Sketch,  of 
ichich  space  only  permits  us  to  give  a  few  specimen  verses. 

First  the  Champion  Comic 

Steps  upon  the  stage  ; 
W^ith  his  latest  ''  Grand  Success." 

Sure  to  be  the  rage  ! 
Sixty  pounds  a  week  he 

Easily  can  earn  ; 
Eound  the  Music  Halls  he  goes, 

And  does  at  each  a  *'  turn." 

G  2 


84  MR.    PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIC  HALL. 


Illustration. 

Undali  the  stors  in  a  sweet  shady  dairl, 

I  strolled  with  me  awm  round  a  deah  little  gairl, 

And  whethaw  I  kissed  har  yaw'd  like  me  to  tairl — 

Well,  I'd  rawthah  you  didn't  inquiah  ! 

All  golden  her  hair  is, 

She's  Queen  of  the  Fairies, 

And  known  by  the  name  of  the  lovely  Mariah, 

She's  a  regular  Venus, 

But  what  passed  between  us, 

I'd  very  much  rawthah  jou  didn't  inquiah  ! 

Next  the  Lady  Serio, 

Mincing  as  she  walks  ; 
If  a  note's  too  high  for  her, 

She  doesn't  sing — she  talks. 
What  she  thinks  about  the  men 

You're  pretty  sure  to  learn. 
She  always  has  a  hit  at  them, 

Before  she's  done  her  "  turn  !  " 

Illustration. 

You  notty  young  men,  ow  !  you  notty  young  men  ! 
You  tell  us  you're  toffs,  and  the  real  Upper  Ten, 
But  behind  all  your  ears  is  the  mark  of  a  pen  ! 
So  don't  you  deceive  us,  you  notty  young  men  ! 

Miss  J.  J.  {concluding).     And  such,  Sir,  are  these  enter- 
tainments grand, 
In  which  Mirth  and  ReJfinement  go  'and-in-*and  ! 


THE   LITTLE    CROSSING-SWEEPER.  85 


[As  the  Duke  is  expressing  his  appreciation  of  the  elevat- 
imj  effect  of  such  performances,  the  Butler  rushes  in, 
followed  hy  two  flurried  Footmen. 

Butler,     Pardon  this  interruption,  my  Lord,  but  I  come  to 
announce  the  fact 
That   by   armed   house-breakers   the   pantry   has  just  been 
attacked ! 
Duke.     Then  we'll  repel  them — each  to  his  weapons  look  ! 
I  know  how  to  defend  my  property,  although  I  am  a  Dook ! 
JSIiss  J.  {snatching  sword  from  one  of  the  vie  n-in- armour). 
With  such  a  weapon  I  their  hash  will  settle  ! 
You'll  lend  it,  won't  yer,  old  Britannia  Metal  ? 

[Shouts  and f  ring  without;  the  Footmen  hide  under  sofa. 
Let  flunkeys  flee — though  danger  may  encircle  us, 
A  British  Buttons  ain't  afeard  of  Burgulars  ! 

[Tremendous  firing,  during  which  the  Burglars  are  suj)- 
posed  to  he  repulsed  icith  heavy  loss  hy  the  Duke, 
Butler,  and  Page. 

Miss  J.     'Ere— I  say,  Dook,  I  saved  yer  life,  didn't  yer  know  ? 
{A  parting  shot,  upon  which  she  staggers  hack  with  a  ringing 

scream.) 
The  Brutes  !  they've  been  and  shot  me  !  .  .  Mother  !  .  .  Oh  ! 

[Dies  in  lime-light  and  great  agony ;  the  Footmen  come 
out  from  under  sofa  and  regard  loith  sorrowing 
admiration  the  lifeless  form  of  the  Little  Crossing- 
sweeper,  which  the  Duke,  as  curtain  falls,  covers 
reverently  ivith  the  best  table-cloth. 


ii.-JOE,   THE   JAM-EATER. 

A    MUSICAL   SPECTACULAR   AND    SENSATIONAL 
INT EB  LUBE. 

{Dedicated  respectfully  to  Mr.  McDougall  and  the  L.  C.  C.) 


Joe! 

The  Music-hall  Dramatist,  like  Sliakspearc  and  Moliere, 
has  a  right  to  take  his  material  from  any  source  that  may 
seem  good  to  him.  Mr.  Punch,  therefore,  makes  no  secret 
of  the  fact,  that  he  has  based  the  following  piece  upon  the 
well-known  poem  of  "  The  Purloiner,"  by  the  Sisters  Jane 
and  Ann  Taylor,  who  were  not,  as  might  be  too  hastily  con- 
cluded,  "  Song   and  Dance   Duettists,"  but   two   estimable 


JOE,    THE   JAM-EATEB. 


ladies,  who  composed  "  cautionary  "  verses  for  the  young,  and 
whose  works  are  a  perfect  mine  of  wealth  for  Moral  Drama- 
tists. In  this  dramatic  version  the  Author  has  tried  to 
infuse  something  of  the  old  Greek  sense  of  an  overruling 
destiny,  without  detriment  to  prevailing  ideas  of  moral  re- 
sponsibility. Those  who  have  the  misfortune  to  be  born 
with  a  propensity  for  illicit  jam,  may  learn  from  our  Drama 
the  terrible  results  of  failing  to  overcome  it  early  in  life. 

JOE,    THE    JAM-EATER. 

Dea:\iatis  Peeson.e. 

Jam-Loving    Joe.      V>y  that    renowned    Melodramatic    Serio-Comic, 
Miss  GoxNiE  Curd  LEE. 

Joe's  Mother  (the  very  part  for  Mrs.  BAjSX'ROPT  if  slic  can  onhj  he  induced 
to  mahe  her  reappearance). 

John,  a  Gardener.     By  the  great  Pink-eyed  Unmusical  Zuhi. 
Jim-Jam,  the  Fermentation  Fiend.      By  Mr.  Beerboiiim  Teee  {luho 

has  kindly  consented  to  undertahe  the  part). 
Chorus  of  Plum  and  Pear  Gcdherers,  from  the  Savoy  [hy  hind  permission 
of  IMr.  D"Oyly  Caete). 

Scene — The  Store-room,  at  sunset  icitli  view  of  exterior   of 
Jam  Cuphoavd,  and  orchard  in  distance. 

Enter  Joe. 

*'  As  Joe  was  at  plaj^,  Near  the  cupboard  one  day,  "When  he  thought 
no  one  saw  but  himself." — Vide  Poem. 

Joe  {dreamily.)  'Tis  passing  strange  that  I  so  partial  am 
To  playing  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Jam  ! 

[Here  Miss  Cuedler  7cill  introduce  her  great  humorous 
Satirical  Medley  illustrative  of  the  Sjwrts  of  Childhood, 
and   entitled,    *'  Some  little    Gj^mes  we  all  of  us    'ave 


88  MR.    PUNCH'S   MODEL    MUSIC  HALL. 

Plied;"  after  tvhich,  Enter  Joe's  Mother,  followed  hij 
John  and  the  Chorus,  with  baskets,  ladders,  de.,  for 
(jathcring  fruit. 

"His  Mother  and  John,  To  the  garden  had  gone,  To  gathe^*  ripe 
pears  and  ripe  plums." — Poem. 

Joe's  Mother  {with  forced  cheerfulness) — 

Let's  liope,  my  friends,  to  find  our  pears  and  plums, 
Unharmed  by  wopses,  and  untouched  by  wums. 

[Chorus  sifpiifij  assent  in  the  usual  manner  hy  holding  vp  the 
right  hand. 

Solo — John. 

Fruit,  wlien  gathered  ripe,  is  wholesome — 

Otherwise  if  eaten  green. 
Once  I  know  a  boy  who  stole  some — 
[With  a  glance  at  Jo^,  who  turns  aside  to  conceal  Ids  con- 
fusion. 

His  internal  pangs  were  keen  ! 

Chorus  {virtuonshj) .     'Tis  the  doom  of  all  who're  mean. 
Their  internal  pangs  are  keen  ! 

Joe's  Mother   [aside).     By  what  misgivings  is  a  mother 
tortured  ! 
I'll  keep  my  eye  on  Joseph  in  the  orchard. 

[She  invites  him  with  a  gesture  to  follow. 

Joe  {earnestly).     Nay,  Mother,  here  I'll  stay  till  you  have 
done. 
Temptation  it  is  ever  best  to  shun  ! 
Joe^s  M.     So  laudable  his  wish,  I  would  not  cross  it — 
(Mysteriously.)     He  knows  not  there  are  jam-pots   in  yon 
closet ! 


JOE,    THE   JAM-EATER.  89 

Chorus.     Away  we  go  tripping, 

From  bouglis  to  be  stripping 
Each  pear,  plum,  and  pippin 

Pomona  supplies  ! 
When  homeward  we've  brought  'em, 
Those  products  of  Autumn, 
We'll  carefully  sort  'em 

{One  of  our  old  Music-hall  rhymes). 
According  to  size  !     [llej>eat  as  they  calmer  out. 

[Joe's  Mother,  after  one  fond,  lingering  look  behind,  follows  : 
the  voices  are  heard  more  and  more  faintly  in  the  dis- 
tance. Stage  darkens  :  the  last  ray  of  sunset  illumines 
ley  of  jam-cuphoard  door. 

Joe.  At  last  I  am  alone  !     Suppose  I  tried 

That  cupboard — just  to  see  what's  kept  inside  ? 

[Seems  drawn  towards  it  hy  some  fatal  fascination. 

There  might  be  Guava  jelly,  and  a  plummy  cake, 
For  such  a  prize  I'd  laugh  to  scorn  a  stomach-ache  ! 

[Laughs  a  stomach-ache  to  scorn. 
And  yet  {hesitating)  who  knows  '? — a  pill  .  .  perchance — 
a  powder ! 
{TJespcrately.)     What  then  ?     To  scorn  I'll  laugh  them — even 
louder  ! 

[Fetches  chair  and  unlocks  cupboard.  Doors  fall  open  ivith 
loud  clang,  revealing  Interior  of  Jam  Cloi^et  {painted 
hy  Hawes  Craven).  Joe  mounts  chair  to  explore 
shelves. 

"  How  sorry  I  am,  lie  ate  raspberry  jam,  And  currants  that 
stood  on  the  shelf!  " — Vide  Poem. 

Joe  {speaking  ivith  mouth  full  and  hack  to  audience).     'Tis 
raspberry — of  all  the  jams  my  favourite  ; 


90  MR.    PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIC  HALL. 

I'll  clear  the  pot,  whate'er  I  have  to  pay  for  it  ! 
And  finish  up  with  currants  from  this  shelf  .  .  . 
Who'll  ever  see  me  ? 
TJie  Demon  of  the  Jam  Closet  {risinr/  slowh/  from  an  im- 
mense pot  of  iweserves).     No  one — but  Myself ! 

[The  euphoard  is  lit  vj)  hi/  an  infernal  glare  {courteously  lent 
hy  the  Lyceum,  Management  from  "  L'anst  "  iiroperties) ; 
weird  music ;  Joe  turns  slowly  and  confronts  the  Demon 
with  awestruck  eyes,  N.B. — Great  oj^portunity  for 
powerful  acting  here. 

The  Demon  (with  a  bland  sneer).     Pray  don't  mind  me — I 
will  await  your  leisure. 

Joe  {automatically).     Of  your  acquaintance,  Sir,  I've  nob 
the  pleasure. 
Who  are  you  ?     Wherefore  have  you  intervened  ? 

The  Demon  {quietly).     My  name  is  ''Jim-Jam  ;  "  occupa- 
tion— fiend. 

Joe,    {cowering   limply   on   his   chair).     0   Mr.   Fiend,    I 
hnoiv  it's  very  wrong  of  me  ! 

Demon  {politely).     Don't  mention  it — but  please  to  come 
"  along  of"  me  ? 

Joe  {imploringly).     Do  let  me  off  this  once, — ha!  you're 
relenting, 
You  smile 

Demon  {grimly).     'Tis  nothing  but  my  jam  fermenting  ! 

[CatcJies  Joe's  ankle,  and  assists  him  to  descend. 

Joe.     You'll  drive  me  mad  ! 

Demon  {carelessly).         I  may — before  I've  done  with  you  ! 
Joe.     What  do  you  want  ? 

Demon  {darkly).  To  have  a  little  fun  with  you  ! 

Of  fiendish  humour  now  I'll  give  a  specimen. 


JOE,    THE   JAM-EATER. 


91 


[Chases  him  round  and  round  stage,  and  iwocccds  to  smear 
him  hideously  nith  jam. 

Joe  {jpiteoushj) ,    Oh,  don't  I  I  feel  so  sticky.    What  a  mess 

I'm  in ! 
Demon   {witJi  affected  symjxitJii/).      That  is  the  worst  of 

jam — it's  apt  to  stain  5'on. 

[To  Joe,  as  he  franticallij 
endeavours  to  remove  the 
traces  of  his  crime. 

■so 


I   see   you're   busy 
I'll  not  detain  you  ! 

[Vanishes  down  star-trap 
with  a  diabolical  laugh . 
Cuphoa  rd  -doors  close 
with  a  clang  ;  cdl  lights 
down.  Joe  stands  gaz- 
ing hlanhhj  for  some 
moments,  and  then  drags 
himself  off^  stage.  His 
Mother  and  John,  with 
Pear-and-Plum-gatJterers 
healing  laden  baskets, 
appear  at  doors  at  back 
of  Scene,  in  faint  light  of 
tor  dies. 


The  Demon 


Re-enter  Joe  bearing  a  candle  and  wringing  his  hands. 

Joe.     Out,  jammed  spot !     What — will  these  hands  never 
be  clean? 
Here's  the  smell  of  the  raspberry  jam  still  !     All  the  powders 
of  Gregory  cannot  unsweeten  this  little  hand  .  .  .  {Moaning.) 
Oh,  oh,  oh ! 


92  MB.    PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIC  HALL. 

[TJiis  passage  has  heen  accused  of  hearing  too  close  a  resem- 
blance to  one  in  a  poimlar  Stage  Play  ;  if  so,  the  coinci- 
dence is  imrely  accidental,  as  the  Dramatist  is  not  in  the 
hahit  of  reading  such  profane  literature. 

Joe's  Mother.     Ah  !  what  an  icy  dread  my  heart  benumbs! 
See — stams  on  all  his  fingers,  and  his  thumbs  ! 

"  What  Joe  was  about,  His  mother  found  out,  When  she  look'd  at 
his  fingers  and  thumbs." — Poem  again. 

Nay,  Joseph — 'tis  your  mother  .  .  .  speak  to  her  ! 
Joe  {tondesslg,  as  before).  Lady,  I  know  you  not  {touches 
lower  part  of  waistcoat) ;  but,  prithee,  undo  this  button.  I 
think  I  have  jam  in  all  my  veins,  and  I  would  fain  sleep. 
When  I  am  gone,  lay  me  in  a  plain  white  jelly-pot,  wdth  a 
parchment  cover,  and  on  the  label  write — but  come  nearer,  I 
have  a  secret  for  your  ear  alone  .  .  .  there  are  strange  things 
in  some  cupboards  !  Demons  should  keep  in  the  dust-bin. 
{With  a  ghastly  smile.)  I  know  not  what  ails  me,  but  I  am 
not  feeling  at  all  well. 
[Joe's  Mother  stands  a  few  steps  from  him,  with  her  hands 

twisted  in  her  hair,  and  stares  at  Jam  in  speechless  terror. 

Joe  {to  the  Chorus).  I  would  shake  hands  wdth  you  all, 
were  not  my  fingers  so  sticky.  We  eat  marmalade,  but  we 
know  not  what  it  is  made  of.  Hush !  if  Jim- Jam  comes 
again,  tell  him  that  I  am  not  at  home.     Loo-loo-loo ! 

All  {with  conviction).     Some  shock  has  turned  his  brine  ! 

Joe  {sitting  down  on  floor,  and  iveaving  straws  in  his  hair.) 
My  curse  upon  him  that  invented  jam.  Let  us  all  play 
Tibbits. 

^Lauglis  vacantly ;  all  gather  round  him,  shaking  their 
heads,  liis  Mother  falls  fainting  at  his  feet  as  curtain 
falls  upon  a  strong  and  moral,  though  undeniably  gloomy 
denoument. 


iii.-THE    MAN-TRAP. 

This  Drama,  which,  like  our  last,  has  been  suggested  by  a 
poem  of  the  Misses  Taylor,  will  be  found  most  striking  and 
impressive  in  representation  upon  the  Music-hall  stage.  The 
dramatist  has  ventured  to  depart  somewhat  from  the  letter, 
though  not  the  spirit,  of  the  original  text,  in  his  desire  to 
enforce  the  moral  to  the  fullest  possible  extent.  Our  present 
piece  is  intended  to  teach  the  great  lesson  that  an  inevitable 
Nemesis  attends  apple-stealing  in  this  world,  and  that  Doom 
cannot  be  disarmed  by  the  intercession  of  the  evil-doer's 
friends,  however  well-meaning. 

THE     MAN-TRAP! 

A    THRILLING    MORAL    MUSICAL    SENSATION   SKETCH 
IN    ONE   SCENE. 

Dramatis  Person.^. 
William  {a  Good  Boy)     ....     Mr.  Haeey  XiciroLLS. 

Thomas  (a  Bad  Boy) Mr.  Herbert  Campbell. 

{Who  have  kindly  offered  tlteir  services.) 
Benjamin  [neither  one  thiny  nor  the  other)     Mr.  Samuel  Super. 
The  Monster  Man-Trap  .        .        .    Mr.  George  Conquest. 

Scene. — An  elahorate  set,  representing,  on  extreme  left,  a 
portion  of  the  Itifjli  road,  and  icall  dividing  it  from  an 
orchard  ;  realistic  apple-  and  pear-trees  laden  icith  fruit. 
Time,  about  four  o'clock  on  a  hot   afternoon.      Enter 


94  ME.    PUNCH'S   MODEL    MUSIC  HALL. 

William  and  TnoMAii,  hand-in-liand,  along  road;    they 
ignore  the  dividing  icall,  and  adrance  to  front  of  stage. 

Duct. — WiLLLiM  and  Thomas. 
Wni.  I'm   a  reg'lar  model  boy,  I  am  ;  so   please   make   no 
mistake. 
It's  Thomas  who's  the  bad  'un — I'm  the  good  ! 
Thos.  Yes,  I  delight  in  naughtiness  for  naughtiness's  sake, 
And  I  wouldn't  be  like  William  if  I  could  ! 

Cliorus. 
Wni.  Ever  since  I  could  toddle,  my  conduct's  been  model. 

There's,  oh,  such  a  difference  between  me  and  him  ! 
TJios.  While  still  in  the  cradle,  I  orders  obeyed  ill, 

And  now  I've  grown  into  a  aw^ful  young  limb  ! 

Toqether.  Yes,  now     -r»         ffrown  into  a  awful  younfTf  limb. 
^  '  (  I  ve  j  *=  .-to 

I've  made  up  my  mind  not  to  imitate  liini ! 

[Here  they  dance. 

Second  Verse. 

Wni.  If  someone  hits  him  in  the  eye,  he  always  hits  them 
back ! 
When  I  am  struck,  my  Ma  I  merely  tell ! 
On  passing  fat  pigs  in  a  lane,  he'll  give  'em  each  a 
whack  ! 
Thos.  {inij^enitcnthj).  And  jolly  fan  it  is  to  hear  'em  yell ! 

[Chorus. 
Third  Verse. 

Wni.  He's   always   cribbing   coppers — which   he   spends  on 

lollipops. 
Thos.       (A  share  of  which  you've  never  yet  refused  !) 
Wm.  A  stone  he'll  shy  at  frogs  and  toads,  and  anything  that 
hops ! 


THE    MAN-TRAP.  95 

Thos.      (While  you  look  on,  and  seem  to  be  amused  !) 

[Chorus. 
Fourth  Verse. 

Wm.  As  soon   as   school  is  over,   Thomas   goes  a  hunting 
squirr'ls, 
Or  butterflies  he'll  capture  in  his  hat ! 
Thos.  You  play  at  Kissing  in  the  Eing  with  all  the  little 

girls  ! 
Wm.  (demurely).  Well,  Thomas,  I  can  see  no  harm  in  that! 

[Chorus. 
Fifth  Verse. 

Wm.  Ah,  Thomas,  if  you  don't  reform,  you'll  come  to  some 

bad  end  ! 
Thos.      Oh,  AYilliam,  put  your  head  inside  a  bag ! 
Wm.     No,   Thomas,    that   I   cannot  —  till   you   promise   to 

amend  ! 
Thos.      Why,  William,  what  a  chap  you  are  to  nag  ! 

[Chorus   and   dance.      Thomas   returns    to   road,    and 
regards  the  apple-trees  longingly  over  top  of  wall. 
Thos.  Hi,  William,  look  .  .  .  what  apples !  there — don't  you 
see  ? 
And  pears — my  eye  !  just  aint  they  looking  juicy  ! 
Wm.  Nay,  Thomas,  since  you're  bent  upon  a  sin, 
I  will  walk  on,  and  visit  Benjamin  ! 

[Exit  William  (l.  2  e.),  u-hile  Thomas  j^^'occeds  to  scale  the 
icall  and  climh  the  houghs  of  the  nearest  pear-tree. 
Melodramatic  Music.  The  Monster  Man-trap  steathily 
emerges  from  long  grass  below,  and  fixes  a  baleful  eye  on 
the  unconscious  Thomas. 

Thos.  I'll  fill  my  pockets,  and  on  pears  I'll  feast  ! 

[Sees  Man-trap,  and  staggers. 


98  MB.    PUNCH'S   MODEL    MUSIC   HALL. 

Oh,  lor — whatever  is  that  hugly  beast ! 
Hi,  help,  here  !  call  him  off !   .  .  . 
The  Monsier.  'Tis  vain  to  holler— 

My  horders  are — all  trespassers  to  swoller  ! 
You  just  come  down — I'm  w^aiting  'ere  to  ketch  you. 
(Indignantly.)  You  don't  expect  I'm  coming  up  to  fetch 
you ! 
Thos.  {politely.)  Oh,  not  if  it  -would  inconvenience  you,  Sir  ! 
(In  agonised  aside.)    I  feel  my  grip   grow  every  moment 
looser  ! 
[The  Monster,  in  a  slow,  uncouth  manner,  2)roceeds  to  scramhle 
vj)  the  tree. 

Oh,  here's  a  go  !    The  horrid  thing  can  climb  ! 
Too  late  I  do  repent  me  of  my  crime ! 
[Terrific  sensation  chase!    The  Monster  Man-trap  leaps  from 
hough   to   hough   with    horrible   agility,   and   eventually 
secures  liis  prey,  and  leaps  with  it  to  the  ground. 
Thos.    (in  the  Monster's  jaws).    I'm  sure  you  seem  a  kind, 
good-natured  creature — 
You  will  not  harm  me  ? 
Monster.  No— I'll  only  eat  yer  ! 

[Thomas  slowly  vanishes  doicn  its  cavernovs  jaws  ;  faint  yells 
are  heard  at  intervals — tlien  nothing  hut  a  dull  cliamping 
sound;  after  ivhich,  dead  silence.  The  Monster  smiles, 
with  an  air  of  repletion. 

Be- enter  'WijAjIAM,  from  e.,  with  Benjamin. 

Benjamin.  I'm  very  glad  you  came — but  where  is  Thomas  ? 
JFwi.  (severely).  Tom  is  a  wicked  boy,  and  better  from  us. 

For  on  the  road  he  stopped  to  scale  a  wall !  .  .  . 

[Sees  Man-trap,  and  starts. 

\Yhat's  that  ? 


THE    MAN-TBAP. 


-S^^J-  It  will  not  hurt  good  boys  at  all — 

It's  only  Father's  Man-trap — why  so  pale  ? 

Wm.  The  self- same  tree  !  .  .  the  wall  that  Tom  would  scale  ! 
Where's  Thomas  noiv  !  Ah,  Tom,  the  wilful  pride  of 
you. 

[The  Man- trap  affects  an  elaborate  iinconscioimiess.. 


Up  a  Tree  I 

Benj,  {with  sudden  enlightenment),    Man-trap,  I  do  believe 
poor  Tom's  inside  of  you  ! 
That  sort  of  smile's  exceedingly  suspicious. 

[The  uNIan-trap  endeavours  to  hide  in  the  grass, 
IVm.  Ah,  Monster,  give  him  back — 'tis  true  he's  vicious, 
And  had  no  business  to  go  making  free  with  you  ! 
But  think,  so  bad  a  boy  will  disagree  with  you  ! 


98 


MB.    PUNCH'S   MODEL    MUSIC  HALL. 


[William  and  Benjamin  kneel  in  attitudes  of  entreaty  on  either 
side  of  the  Man-trap,  7vhich  shows  signs  of  increasing 
emotion  as  the  song  ^troceeds. 


Benjamin  (sings). 
Man-trap,  bitter  our  distress  is 

That  you  have  unkindly  penned 
In  your  innermost  recesses 

One  who  used  to  bo  our  friend  I 


WiUiam  {sings). 

In  his   downward   course  arrest 

him! 

(He  may  take  a  virtuous  tack); 

Pause  awhile,  ere  you  digest  him, 

Make  an  effort — bring  him  back  I 


[Tlic  Man-trap  is  convidsed  hy  a  violent  heave  ;  William  and 
Benjamin  hend  forward  in  an  agony  of  expectation ^  until 
a  small  shoe  and  the  leg  of  Thomas's  ixintaloons  are 
finally  emitted  from  the  Monster's  ^Vnrs. 

Benj.  {exultantly).  See,  William,  now  lie's  coming  .  .  .  here's 

his  shoe  for  you  ! 
The  Man-trap  (with  an  accent  of  genuine  regret).  I'm  sorry — 

but  that's  all  that  I  can  do  for  you  ! 
Wm.  {raising  the  shoe  and  the  leg  of  pantaloons,  and  holding 
them  sorrowfully  at  arm's   length).    He's  met  the 
fate  which  moralists  all  promise  is 
The  end  of  such  depraved  careers  as  Thomas's  ! 
Oh,  Benjamin,  take  warning  by  it  he-imiQ  ! 
{More  brightly).  But  now  to  wash  our  hands — 'tis  nearly  tea- 
time  ! 

[Exeunt  William  and  Benjamin,  to  tvash  their  hands,  as 
Curtain  falls.  N.B.  This  finale  is  more  tridy  artistic, 
and  in  accordance  ivith  modern  dramatic  ideas,  than  the 
conventional  *^ picture,'* 


iv.-THE    FATAL    PIN. 

Our  present  example  is  pure  tragedy  of  the  most  ambitious 
Mnd,  and  is,  perhaps,  a  little  in  advance  of  the  taste  of  a 
Music-hall  audience  of  the  present  day.  When  the  fusion 
between  the  Theatres  and  the  Music  Halls  is  complete — when 
Miss  Bessie  Bellwood  sings  *'  What  Cheer,  'Bia?  "  at  the 
Lyceum,  and  Mr.  Henry  Irving  gives  his  compressed  version 
of  Hamlet  at  the  Trocadero  ;  when  there  is  a  general  levelling- 
up  of  culture,  and  removal  of  )3rejudice — then,  and  not  till 
then,  will  this  powerful  little  play  meet  with  the  appreciation 
which  is  its  due.  The  main  idea  is  suggested  by  the  Misses 
Taylor's  well-known  poem,  TJie  Pin,  though  the  dramatist 
has  gone  further  than  the  poetess  in  working  out  the  notion 
^f  Nemesis. 

THE     FATAL     PIN. 

A    TRAGEDY. 

Dramatis  Person.^. 
Uinily  Heedless.  By  either  Miss  Vesta  Tilley  or  Mrs.  Berxard  Beere. 
Peter  Paragon.     Mr.  Forbes  Eobertson  or  Mr.  Arthur  Eoberi.s 

(only  he  mustn't  sing  "  The  Good  Young  Man  luJio  Died''). 
First  and   Second  Bridesmaids.      Miss    Maude    Millett  and   Miss 

Axnie  Hughes. 

Scene. — Emily's    Boudoir,    sumi^tuoiishj  furnished    xvith    a 
screen  and  soft,  c.     Door,  r.,  leadincj  to  Emily's  Bed- 


100  ME.    PUNCH'S   MODEL    MUSIC  HALL. 

cliamher.     Door,  l.     Emily  discovered  in  loose  wraj^j^cr, 
and  reclining  in  un  com  for  table  iwsition  on  sofa, 
Emily  (dreamilij).     This  day  do  I  become  the  envied  bridc- 

Of  Peter,  justly  surnamed  Paragon  ; 

And  much  I  wonder  what  in  me  he  found 

(He,  who  Perfection  so  personifies) 

That  he  could  condescend  an  eye  to  cast 

On  faulty  feather-headed  Emily  ! 

Plow  solemn  is  the  stillness  all  around  me  ! 

[.4  loud  hang  is  heard  hehind  screen^ 

Methought  I  heard  the  dropping  of  a  pin  ! — 

Perhaps  I  should  arise  and  search  for  it.  .  .  . 

Yet  why,  on  second  thoughts,  disturb  myself, 

Since  I  am,  by  my  settlements,  to  have 

A  handsome  sum  allowed  for  pin-money  ? 

Nay,  since  thou  claim'st  thy  freedom,  little  pin, 

I  lack  the  heart  to  keep  thee  prisoner. 

Go,  then,  and  join  the  great  majority 

Of  fallen,  vagrant,  unregarded  pinhood — 

My  bliss  is  too  supreme  at  such  an  hour 

To  heed  such  infidelities  as  thine. 

\_Falls  into  a  haj)py  reverie. 

Enter  First  and  Second  Bridesmaids. 
First  and  Second  Bridesmaids.     What,  how  now,  Emily — 
not  yet  attired  ? 
Nay,  haste,  for  Peter  will  be  here  anon  ! 

[They  hurry  her  offhy  r.  door,  just  as  Petee  Paragon 
enters  l.  in  bridal  array.  N.B. — The  exigencies 
of  the  Drama  are  responsible  for  his  making  his 
aijpearancc  here,  instead  of  waiting,  as  is  more 
usual,  at  the  church, 
Peter  {meditatively).     The  golden  sands  of  my  celibacy 


THE   FATAL    FIX. 


101 


Are  running  low — soon  falls  the  final  grain  ! 
Yet,  even  now,  the  glass  I  would  not  turn. 
My  Emily  is  not  without  her  faults 
*'  Was  not  without  them,"  I  should  rather  say, 
For  during  ten  idyllic  years  of  courtship, 


By  precept  and  example  I  have  striven 
To  mould  her  to  a  helpmate  fit  for  me. 
Now,  thank  the  Gods,  my  labours  are  complete. 
She  stands  redeemed  from  all  her  giddiness  ! 

[Here  he  steps  upon  tlie  pin^  and  utters  an  exelamation. 
Ha !  What  is  this  ?  I'm  wounded  .  .  .  agony ! 
With  what  a  darting  pain  my  foot's  transfixed ! 
I'll  summon  help  (icitJi  calm  courage) — yet,  stay,  I  would  not 
dim 


102  MB.    PUNCH'S  MODEL   MUSIC  HALL 

This  nuptial  day  by  any  sombre  cloud. 

I'll  bear  this  stroke  alone — and  now  to  probe 

The  full  extent  of  my  calamity. 

[Seats  himself  on  sofa  in  such  a  position  as  to  he  con- 
cealed  hij  the  screen  from  all  hut  the  audience,  and 
2)roceeds  to  remove  his  hoot. 
Ye  powers  of  Perfidy,  it  is  a  pin  ! 
I  must  know  more  of  this — for  it  is  meet 
Such  criminal  neglect  should  be  exposed. 
Severe  shall  be  that  house-maid's  punishment 
Who's  proved  to  be  responsible  for  this  ! — 
Eut  soft,  I  hear  a  step. 

[Enter  First  and  Second  Bridesmaids,  who  hunt  dili- 
gently  upon    the  carpet   without   observing   Peter's 
presence. 
Emily's  Voice  (within).     Oh,  search,  I  pray  you. 
It  must  be  there — my  own  ears  heard  it  fall ! 

[Peter  betrays  growing  uneasiness. 
The  Bridesmaids.     Indeed,  we  fail  to  see  it  anywhere  ! 
Emily  (entering  distractedly  in  bridal  costume,  with  a  large 
rent  in  her  train). 
You  have  no  eyes,  I  tell  you,  let  me  help. 
It  must  be  found,  or  I  am  all  undone  ! 
In  vain  my  cushion  I  have  cut  in  two 
'Twas  void  of  all  but  stuf&ng  .  .  .  Gracious  Heavens, 
To  think  that  all  my  future  bliss  depends 
On  the  evasive  malice  of  a  pin  ! 

[Peter  behind  screen,  starts  violently, 
Peter  (aside).     A  pin!    what  dire   misgivings   wring    my 
heart ! 
[Hops  forward  ivith  a  cold  dignity,  holding  one  foot  in 
his  hand. 
You  seem  in  some  excitement,  Emilv  ? 


THE   FATAL   FIN.  103 


Emily  (wildly).  You, 'Peter  \  .  .  .  tell  me — have  you  found 

a  pin? 
Peter  {ivith  deadly  calm).     Unhappy  girl — I  have  I     {To 
Bridesmaids.)     "Withdraw  awhile, 
And  should  we  need  you,  we  will  summon  you. 

[Exeunt   Bridesmaids;   Emily  and  Veteh  stand  facim/ 
each  other  for  some  moments  in  dead  silence. 
The  pin  is  found — for  I  have  trodden  on  it, 
And  may,  for  aught  I  know,  be  lamed  for  life. 
Speak,  Emily,  what  is  that  maid^s  desert 
Whose  carelessness  has  led  to  this  mishap  ? 

Emily  {in  the  desperate  hope  of  shielding  herself). 
Why,  should  the  fault  be  traced  to  any  maid, 
Instant  dismissal  shall  be  her  reward. 
With  a  month's  wages  paid  in  lieu  of  notice  ! 

Peter  {icith  a  passionless  severity). 
From  your  o\Tn  lips  I  judge  you,  Emily. 
Did  they  not  own  just  now  that  you  had  heard 
The  falling  of  a  pin — yet  heeded  not  ? 
Behold  the  outcome  of  your  negligence  ! 

[Extends  his  injured  foot. 
Emily.     Oh,  let  me  kiss  the  place  and  make  it  well ! 
Peter  {coldly  icitlidraicing  foot).     Keep  your  caresses  till  I 
ask  for  them. 
My  wound  goes  deeper  than  you  wot  of  yet. 
And  by  that  disregarded  pin  is  pricked 
The  iridescent  bubble  of  Illusion  ! 

Emily  (sloivly).     Indeed,  I  do  not  wholly  comprehend. 
Peter.     Have  patience  and  I  will  be  plainer  yet. 
Mine  is  a  complex  nature,  Emily ; 
Magnanimous,  but  still  methodical. 
An  injury  I  freely  can  forgive. 
Forget  it  {striking  his  chest),  never  !     She  who  leaves  about 


104  MB,    PUNCH'S   MODEL    MUSIC   HALL. 

Pins  on  the  floor  to  pierce  a  lover's  foot, 
Will  surely  plant  a  thorn  within  the  side 
Of  him  whose  fate  it  is  to  be  her  husband  ! 

Emily  {dragging  herself  toivards  him  on  her  knees).     Have 
pity  on  me,  Peter  ;  I  was  mad  ! 

Peter   {ivith  emotion).     How  can  I  choose  but  pity  thee, 
poor  soul. 
Who,  for  the  sake  of  temporary  ease, 
Hast  forfeited  the  bliss  that  had  been  thine  ! 
You  could  not  stoop  to  pick  a  pin  up.     Why  ? 
Because,  forsooth,  'twas  but  a  paltry  pin  ! 
Yet,  duly  husbanded,  that  self- same  pin 
Had  served  you  to  secure  your  gaping  train, 
Your  self-respect — and  Me. 

Emily  {wailing).     What  have  I  done  ? 

Peter.     I  will  not  now  reproach  you,  Emily, 
Nor  would  I  dwell  upon  my  wounded  sole. 
The  pain  of  which  increases  momently. 
I  part  from  you  in  friendship,  and  in  proof. 
That  fated  instrument  I  leave  with  you 

[Presenting  her  tcith  tJie  inn,  wltich  she  accepts  media- 
nically. 
Which  the  frail  link  between  us  twain  has  severed. 
I  can  dispense  with  it,  for  in  my  cuff 

[Shows  her  his  coat-cuff,  in  ivhich  a  row  of  inns' -It  e  ads  is 
j)ereeptlhle. 
I  carry  others  'gainst  a  time  of  need. 
My  poor  success  in  life  I  trace  to  this 
That  never  yet  I  passed  a  pin  unheeded. 

Emily.     And  is  that  all  you  have  to  say  to  me  ? 

Peter.     I  think  so — save  that  I  shall  wish  you  well, 
And  pray  that  henceforth  you  may  bear  in  mind 
What  vast  importance  lies  in  seeming  trifles. 


THE   FATAL    PIN.  105 


Emily  {with  a  pale  smile).     Peter,  your  lesson  is  already 
learned, 
For  precious  has  this  pin  become  for  me, 
Since  by  its  aid  I  gain  obHvion — thus  !  [Stahs  herself. 

Peter  {coldly.)     Kay,  these  are  histrionics,  Emily. 

\_Assists  her  to  sofa. 

Emily.   I'd  skill  enough  to  find  a  vital  spot. 
Do  not  withdraw  it  yet — my  time  is  short, 
And  I  have  much  to  say  before  I  die. 
(Faintly.)     Be  gentle  with  my  rabbits  when  I'm  gone; 
Give  my  canary  chickweed  now  and  then. 
...  I  think  there  is  no  more — ah,  one  last  word — ■ 
(Earnestly) — Warn  them  they  must  not  cut  our  wedding-cake, 
And  then  the  pastrycook  ma}-  take  it  back  ! 

Peter    {deeiAy    moved).      Would    you    had     shown    this 
thoughtfulness  before  !  [Kneels  hy  the  sofa. 

Emily.     'Tis  now  too  late,  and  clearly  do  I  see 
That  I  was  never  worthy  of  you,  Peter. 

Peter  {gently).    'Tis  not  for  me  to  contradict  you  now. 
You  did  your  best  to  be  so,  Emily  ! 

Emily.     A  blessing  on  you  for  those  generous  words  ! 
Now  tell  me,  Peter,  how  is  your  poor  foot  ? 

Peter.    The  agony  decidedly  abates. 
And  I  can  almost  bear  a  boot  again. 

Emily.    Then  I  die  happy  !   .  .  .  Kiss  me,  Peter  .  .  .  ah ! 

[pies. 

Peter.     In  peace  she  passed  away.     I'm  glad  of  that, 
Although  that  peace  was  purchased  by  a  lie. 
I  shall  not  bear  a  boot  for  many  days  ! 
Thus  ends  our  wedding  morn,  and  she,  poor  child. 
Has  paid  the  penalty  of  heedlessness  ! 

[Curtain  falls,  whereupon,  unless  Mr.  Punch  is  greatly 
mistaken,  there  will  not  he  a  dry  eye  in  the  house. 


v.-BRUNETTE  AND   BLANCHIDINE. 

A    MELODBAMATIC   DIDACTIC    VAUDEVILLE. 

Suggested   hy   "  The   Wooden  Doll  and  the  Wax  Doll/'  hij 
the  Misses  Jane  and  Ann  Taylor. 

Dramatis  PERSONiE. 

BJnnchidine,    }    By  the   celebrated   Sisters   Stilton,    the   Champion 

Brunette.  ^  Duettists  and  Clog-Dancers. 

Fanny  Furbelow.     By  Miss  Sylvia  Sealskin  {by  kind  permission  of 

tlie  Gaiety  Management). 
Frank  Manly.    By  Mr.  Henry  Neville. 

Scene — A  sunny  Glade  in  Kensington  Gardens y  hetwcen  the 
Serpentine  and  Round  Pond. 

Banter  Blanchidine  and  Brunette,  icith  their  arms  thrown 
affectionately  around  one  another.  Blanchidine  is 
carrying  a  large  and  exj)ressionless  wooden  doll. 

Duct  and  Step-dance. 

Bl.  Oh,  I  do  adore  Brunette  I  (Dances.)  Tippity-tap- 
pity,  tappity-tippity,  tippity-tappity,  tip-tap  ! 

J3r.  Blanchidine' s  the  sweetest  pet !  (Dances.)  Tippity- 
tappity,  &c. 

Together,  When  the  sun  is  high, 

We  come  out  to  ply. 


BRUNETTE   AND   BLANCHIBINE.  107 

Nobody  is  nigh, 
All  is  mirth  and  j  y  ! 
With  a  pairosol, 
Well  protect  our  doll, 
Make  a  mossy  bed 
For  her  wooden  head  ! 

[Combination  stcp-danec  during  which  hoth  watch  their  feet 
with  an  air  of  detacJied  and  slightly  amused  interest,  as  if 
they  belonged  to  some  other  persons, 

Clickity-clack,  clickitj'-clack,  clickity,  clickity,  clickity-clack ; 
clackity-clickity,  clickitj^-clackity,  clackity-clickity-c/^c/j  / 

[llepeat  ad.  lib. 
Bl.  {apologetically  to   Audience).      Her   taste  in  dress  is 

rather  plain  !     {Dances.)     Tippity-tappity,  &:c. 
Br,  {in  p>itying    aside).      It    is    a    pity   she's   so   vain  ! 
{Dances.)     Tippity-tappity,  itc. 

BL  'Tis  a  sliime  to  smoile. 

But  she's  shocking  stoyle, 
It  is  quite  a  troyal. 
Still — she  mikes  a  foil  ! 

J>r.  Often  I 'ye  a  job 

To  suppress  a  sob, 
She  is  such  a  snob, 
When  she  meets  a  nob ! 

[Step-dance  as  before, 

[N.B. — In  consideration  of  the  icell-known  dificidty  that 
most  popular  Variety-Artists  experience  in  the  metrical 
delivery  of  decasyllabic  couplets,  the  lines  which  follow 
have  been  written  as  they  ivill  most  ptrobably  be  spoken. 


108  ME.    PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIC  HALL. 

Bl.    {looldng  off  zvitli  alarm).     Why,   here  comes  Fanny 
Furbelow,  a  new  frock  from  Paris  in  ! 
She'll  find  me  with  Brunette — it's  too  embarrassing  ! 

[Aside, 

(To  Brunette.)  Brunette,  my  love,  I  know  such  a  pretty 
game  we'll  play  at — 

Poor  Timburina's  ill,  and  the  seaside  she  ought  to  stay  at. 

(The  Serpentine's  the  seaside,  let's  pretend.) 

And  you  shall  take  her  there — {hypocritieally) — you're 
such  a  friend ! 
Br.   (witJi    simjdicitij).     Oh,    yes,   that  w'dl   be    splendid, 
Blanchidine, 

And   then   we   can   go    and   have   a  dip  in  a  bathing- 
machine  ! 

[Blax.  resigns  the  wooden  doll  to  Brun.,  wJio  skijjs  (fficitliit, 
L.,  as  Fatsny  Furbelow  enters  r.,  carrying  a  magnificent 
wax  doll. 

Fanny  (languidly).  Ah,  howdy  do — isn't  this  heat  too 
frightful  ?     And  so  you're  quite  alone  ? 

Bl.  (nervously).  Oh,  quite — oh  yes,  I  always  am  alone, 
when  there's  nobody  with  me. 

[TJiis  is  a  little  specimen  of  the  Lady's  humorous  "gag,''  at 
which  she  is  justly  considered  a  iwojicient. 

Fanny  (drawling).  Delightful! 

When  I  was  wondering,  only  a  little  while  ago. 
If  I  should  meet  a  creature  that  1  know ; 
Allow  me — my  new  doll,  the  Lady  Minnie  ! 

[Introducing  doll. 

Bl.  (rapturously).     Oh,  what  a  perfect  love  ! 

Fanny.  She  ought  to  be — for  a  guinea  ! 


BRUNETTE   AND   BLANGRIDINE.  103 

Here,  you  may  nurse  lier  for  a  little  while. 
Be  careful,  for  her  frock's  the  latest  style. 

[Gives  Blan.  the  icax  doll. 

She's  the  hest  wax,  and  has  three  chan^^fes  of  clothino- — 
For  those  cheap  wooden  dolls  I've  quite  a  loathing. 
Bl.  [hastily).     Oh,  so  have  I — they're  not  to  be  endured  ! 

lie-enter  Brunette  7vith  the  ivoodcn  doll,  which  she  tries  to 
press  upon  Blanohidine,  mucli  to  tJie  latter' s  confusion. 

Br.     I've  brought  poor  Timburina  back,  completely  cured  I 
Why,   aren't   you  pleased  ?      Your   face   is   looking  so 
cloudy  I 
F.  {haughtilji).      Is    she   a   friend   of  yours  —  this   little 
dowdy  ?  [Slow  music, 

Bl.  (after  an  internal  struggle).     Oh,   no,  what  an  idea  I 
Why,  I  don't  even  know  her  by  name ! 
Some  vulgar  child  .   .  . 

[Lets  the  u'ax  doll  fall  unregarded  on  the  gravel, 

Br.  {indignantly) .  Oh,  what  a  hon;id  shame  ! 

I  see  now  why  you  sent  us  to  the  Serpentine  ! 
Bl.    (heartlessly).     There's   no   occasion   to  flare   up   like 

turpentine. 
Br.  {ungrammatically).     Tmnot/     Disown  your  doll,  and 
thrust  me,  too,  aside  ! 
The  one  thing  left  for  both  of  us  is — suicide  ! 
Yes,  Timburina,  us  no  more  she  cherishes — 
(Bitterly.)  Well,  the  Bound  Pond  a  handy  place  to  perish  is  ! 

[Bashes  offstage  with  wooden  doll. 

Bl.    (making   a  feehle   attempt   to  follow).      Come   back, 
Brunette ;  don't  leave  me  thus,  in  charity  ! 


110  MR.    PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIC  HALL. 

F,  {with  contempt).     Well,  I'll  be  off — since  you  seem  to 

prefer  vulgarity. 
BL  No,  stay — but — ah,  she  said — what  if  she  meant  it  ? 
F.     Not  she  !     And,  if  she  did,  we  can't  prevent  it. 
Bl.  {relieved).     That's  true — we'll  play,  and  think  no  more 

about  her. 
F.  {sarcastically).     We  may  just  manage  to  get  on  without 
her  ! 

So  come (Perceives   doll   lying  face   upwards   on 

path.) 
You  odious  girl,  what  ha^-e  you  done  ? 
Left  Lady  Minnie  lying  in  the  blazing  sun  ! 
'Twas  done  on  purpose — oh,  you  thing  perfidious  ! 

[Stanq^s, 
You  knew  she'd  melt,  and  get  completely  hideous  ! 
Don't  answer  me,  Miss — I  wish  we'd  never  met. 
Y^ou're  only  fit  for  persons  like  Brunette  ! 

[Picks  up  doll,  and  exit  in  p)assion. 

Grand  Sensation  Descriptive  Soliloquy,  hy  Blanchidine,  to 
Melodramatic  Music. 

Bl.  Gone  !  Ah,  I  am  rightly  punished  !  What  would  I  not 
give  now  to  have  homely  little  Brunette,  and  dear  old  wooden- 
headed  Timburina  back  again  !  She  wouldn't  melt  in  the 
snn  .  .  .  Where  are  they  now  ?  Great  Heavens !  that 
threat — that  rash  resolve  .  .  .  I  remember  all !  'Twas  in  the 
direction  of  the  Pond  they  vanished.  (Peeping  anxiously 
between  trees.)  Are  they  still  in  sight  ?  .  .  .  Yes,  I  see 
them  ?  Brunette  has  reached  the  water's  edge  .  .  .  What  is 
she  purposing  !  Now  she  kneels  on  the  rough  gravel ;  she  is 
making  Timburina  kneel  too  !     How  calm  and  resolute  they 


BRUNETTE   AND   BLANCHIDINE, 


HI 


both  appear  !  (Shuddering.)  I  dare  not  look  further — but  ab, 
I  must — I  must  /  .  .  .  Horror  !  I  saw  her  boots  flash  for  an 
instant  in  the  bright  sunlight :  and  now  the  ripples  have 
closed,  smiling,  over  her  little  black  stockings !  .  .  .  Help  ! 
— save  her,  somebody  ! — help !  .  .  .  Joy !  a  gentleman  has 


appeared  on  the  scene — how  handsome,  how  brave  he  looks  ! 
He  has  taken  in  the  situation  at  a  glance  !  With  quiet  com- 
posure he  removes  his  coat — oh,  don't  trouble  about  folding 
it  up  ! — and  why,  ivliy  remove  your  gloves,  when  there  is  not 
a  moment  to  be  lost  ?  Now,  with  many  injunctions,  he  en- 
trusts his  watch  to  a  bystander,  who  retires,  overcome  by 
emotion.  And  now — oh,  gallant,  heroic  soul ! — now  he  is 
sending  his  toy-terrier  into  the  seething  water  !     {Stra'uunj 


112  MR.    PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIC  HALL. 


eagerly  forward.)  Ah,  the  dog  paddles  hravely  out — he  has 
reached  the  spot  ...  oh,  he  has  passed  it ! — he  is  trying  to 
catch  a  duck  !  Dog,  dog,  is  this  a  time  for  pursuing  ducks  ? 
At  last  he  understands — he  dives  ...  he  brings  up — agony  ! 
a  small  tin  cup  !  Again  .  .  .  this  time,  surely — what,  only 
an  old  pot-hat !  .  .  .  Oh,  this  dog  is  a  fool !  And  still  the 
Hound  Pond  holds  its  dread  secret  !  Once  more  .  .  .  yes — 
no,  yes,  it  is  Timburina  !  Thank  Heaven,  she  yet  breathes  ! 
But  Brunette  ?  Can  she  have  stuck  in  the  mud  at  the 
bottom  ?  Ha,  she,  too,  is  rescued — saved — ha-ha-ha  ! — saved, 
saved,  saved  ! 

[Swoons  hysterically  amid  deafening  apjdause. 

Enter  Frank  Manly  siqiporting  Brunette,  who  carries 
Timburina. 

Bl.  (ivildly).      What,  do  I  see  you  safe,  beloved  Brunette  ? 
]>r.     Yes,  thanks  to  his  courage,  I'm  not  even  2uetl 
Frank  {modestly).     Nay,   spare   your  compliments.      To 
rescue  Beauty, 
When  in  distress,  is  every  hero's  duty  ! 
J)L       Brunette,  forgive — I'm  cured  of  all  my  folly  ! 
J)r.    {heartily).     Of  course  I  will,  my  dear,  and  so  will 
dolly  ! 

[Grand  Trio   and   Step-dance,   with    "  tippity-tappityy^^ 
and  *'  clichity- clack  "  refrain  as  finale. 


vi.-COMING    OF    AGE. 

Our  present  Drama  represents  an  attempt  to  illustrate 
upon  the  Music-hall  stage  the  eternal  truth  that  race  icill 
tell  in  the  long  run,  despite — hut,  on  second  thoughts,  it 
does  not  quite  prove  that,  though  it  certainly  shows  the  un- 
erring accuracy  of  parental — at  least,  that  is  not  exactly  its 
tendency,  either;  and  the  fact  is  that  Mr.  Punch  is  more 
than  a  little  mixed  himself  as  to  the  precise  theory  which  it 
is  designed  to  enforce.  He  hopes,  however,  that,  as  a 
realistic  study  of  Patrician  life  and  manners,  it  will  possess 
charms  for  a  democratic  audience. 


COMING     OF     AGE. 

A    GRAND    SOCIAL    PSYCHOLOGICAL    COMEDY-DBAMA 
IN    ONE   ACT. 

Dramatis  Persons. 

The  Earl  of  Burntal mond. 

The  Countess  of  Btcrnfahnond  {his  wife).   ■ 

Robert  Henry  Viscount  Bidlsaye  (tlieir  son  and  heir). 

The  Lady  Bose  Caramel  {niece  to  the  Earl). 

Horehound       .         .\  (Travelling   as  "The   Celebrated  Combination 

Mrs.  Horehound  .     .    -       Korffdropp   Troupe,"  in   tlieir   refined   and 

ijoltsfoot  H)rehound.  J        elegant  Drawing-room  Entertainment. 

Tenantry. 

♦Scene — The  Great  Quadrangle  of  Hardbake  Castle;  banners, 
mottocSy  decorations,    die.     On  tJic   steps,  r.,  the  Earl, 

1 


114  MB.    PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIC  HALL. 

supjyoj'tcd  hy  his  wife,  son,  and  riiece,  is  discovered  in  the 
act  of  concluding  a  speech  to  six  tenantry,  ivho  display  all 
the  enthusiasm  that  is  reasonably  to  he  expected  at  nine- 
2)ence  a  night. 

The  Earl  {patting  Lord  Bullsaye's  shoidder),  I  might  say 
more,  Gentlemen,  in  praise  of  my  dear  son,  Lord  Bullsaye, 
here — I  might  dwell  on  his  extreme  sweetness,  his  strongly 
marked  character,  the  variety  of  his  tastes,  and  the  singular 
attraction  he  has  for  children  of  all  ages — hut  I  forbear.  I 
"will  merely  announce  that  on  this  day — the  day  he  has. 
selected  for  attaining  his  majority — he  has  gratified  us  all  hy 
plighting  troth  to  his  cousin,  the  Lady  Eose  Caramel,  with 
whose  dulcet  and  clinging  disposition  he  has  always  possessed 
the  greatest  natural  affinity.  [Cheers,. 

Lord  Bullsaye  {aside  to  Lady  E.).  Ah,  Eose,  would  such 
happiness  could  last !  But  my  heart  misgives  me  strangely — 
■why,  I  know  not. 

Lady  R.  Say  not  so,  dear  Bullsaye — have  jon  not  just 
rendered  me  the  happiest  little  Patrician  in  the  whole  peerage  ? 

Lord  B.  'Tis  true — and  yet,  and  yet — pooh,  let  me  snatch 
the  present  hour  !  [Snatches  it.. 

The  Earl.  And  now,  let  the  Eevels  commence. 

Enter  the  Korffdropp  Troupe,  2cho  give  their  marvellous 
Entertainment,  entitled, ''  The  Three  Surprise  Packets;'' 
after  which — 

Ilorehound.  This  will  conclude  the  first  portion  of  our 
Entertainment,  Lords,  Ladies,  and  Gentlemen;  and,  while 
my  wife  and  pardner  retires  to  change  her  costoom  for  the 
Second  Part,  I  should  he  glad  of  the  hoppertoonity  of  a  short 
j)assonal  hexplanation  with  the  noble  Herl  on  my  right. 

[Exit  Mrs.  HoEEHOUND. 


COMING    OF  AGE.  115 


The  Earl  (graciously).  I  will  hear  you,  fellow  !  X^iside.) 
Strange  how  familiar  his  features  seem  to  me  ! 

Iloreli.  The  fact  is,  your  Lordship's  celebrating  the  coming 
of  hage  of  the  ivrong  heir.  {Sensation — i.e.,  the  six  tenantry 
shift  from  one  leg  to  the  other,  and  murmur  feebly.)  Oh,  I 
can  prove  it.  Twenty-one  years  ago — {sloiu  music) — I  was  in 
your  Lordship's  service  as  gamekeeper,  'ead  whip,  and  hextry 
waiter.  My  son  and  yours  was  born  the  selfsame  day,  and 
my  hold  dutch  was  selected  to  hact  as  foster-mother  to  the 
youthful  lord.  Well — {tells  a  long,  and  not  entirely  original, 
story;  marvellous  resemblance  between  infants,  only  dis- 
tinguishable by  green  and  magenta  bows,  dc,  dec.)  Soon 
after,  your  Lordship  discharged  me  at  a  moment's  notice 

The  Earl  {haughtily).  I  did,  upon  discovering  that  you 
w^ere  in  the  habit  of  surreptitiously  carrying  off  kitchen-stuff, 
concealed  within  your  umbrella.  But  proceed  with  your 
narration. 

Iloreh.  I  swore  to  be  avenged,  and  so — {common  form 
again;  tJie  shifted  bows) — consequently,  as  a  moment's  reflec- 
tion will  convince  you,  the  young  man  on  the  steps,  in  the 
button-'ole  and  tall  'at,  is  my  lawful  son,  while  the  real 
Viscount  is — {presenting  Coltsfoot,  ivho  advances  modestly  on 

his  hands) — 'ere  ! 

[Renewed  sensation. 

The  Earl.  This  is  indeed  a  startling  piece  of  intelligence. 
{To  Lord  B.)  And  so.  Sir,  it  appears  that  your  whole  life 
has  been  one  consistent  imposition — a  gilded  lie  ? 

Lord  B.  Let  my  youth  and  inexperience  at  the  time.  Sir, 
plead  as  my  best  excuse  ! 

The  E.  Nothing  can  excuse  the  fact  that  you — you,  a  low- 
born son  of  the  people,  have  monopolised  the  training,  the 
tenderness  and  education,  which  were  the  due  of  your 
Patrician  foster-brother.     {To   Coltsfoot.)     Approach,    my 

I  2 


116  MR.    rUNCirS   MODEL    MUSIC  HALL. 

injured,  long-lost  boy,  and  tell  me  Low  I  may  atone  for  these 
3'ears  of  injustice  and  neglect ! 

Colts,  ^yell,  Guv'nor,  if  you  could  send  out  for  a  pot  o' 
four  arf,  it  'ud  be  a  hef/innhir/,  like. 

llie  E.  You  shall  have  every  luxury  that  befits  your  rank, 
but  first  remove  that  incongruous  garb. 

Colts,  (to  Lord  B.).  These  'ere  togs  belong  to  yoio  now, 
3^oung  feller,  and  I  reckon  exchange  ain't  no  robbery. 

Lord  B.  (iritJi  emotion,  to  Countess).  Mother,  can  you 
endure  to  beliold  your  son  in  tights  and  spangles  on  the  very 
day  of  his  majority  ? 

Coimtess  {coldUj).  On  the  contrary,  it  is  my  wish  to  see 
him  attired  as  soon  as  possible,  in  a  more  appropriate 
costume. 

Ijord  B.  (to  Lady  11.).  Hose,  yoii,  at  least,  have  not 
changed  ?  Tell  me  3'ou  will  love  me  still  even  on  the 
precarious  summit  of  an  acrobat's  pole  ! 

Lady  Hose  {scornfully).  Really  the  presumptuous  fami- 
liarity of  the  lower  orders  is  perfectly  appalling  ! 

TIlg  Earl  {to  Countess,  as  Lord  B.  and  Coltsfoot  retire  to 
cxchanfie  costumes).  At  last,  Pauline,  I  understand  why  I 
could  never  feel  towards  Bullsaj^c  the  affection  of  a  parent. 
Often  have  I  reproached  myself  for  a  coldness  I  could  not 
overcome. 

Countess.  And  I  too  !  Nature  was  too  strong  for  us.  But, 
oh,  the  joy  of  recovering  our  son — of  finding  him  so  strong, 
so  supple,  so  agile.  Never  yet  has  our  line  boasted  an  heir 
vrho  can  feed  himself  from  a  fork  strapped  on  to  his  dexter 
heel ! 

The  E.  (u'itJi  emotion).    Our  beloved,  boneless  boy  ! 

[Re-enter  Coltsfoot  in  modern  dress,  and  Lord  B.  in  tights. 

Colts.  Don't  I  look  slap-up — O.K.  and  no  mistake?  Oh, 
I  am  'aving  a  beano  ! 


COMINii    OF   AGE. 


IVi 


All.     What  easy  gaiety,  and  unforced  animation  ! 
The  E.    My  dear  hojj  let  me  present  yon  to  your  ^fiancee. 
Kose,  my  love,  this  is  your  Icf/itimate  lover. 


Colts.  Oh,  all  right,  rvc  no  objections — on'y  there'll  ho 
ructions  with  the  young 
woman  in  the  tight- 
rope line  as  I've  been 
keepin'  comp'ny  with 
—that's  all  ! 

The  E.  Your  foster- 
brother  will  act  as 
your  substitute  there. 
(Proudly.)  My  son 
must  make  no  mesaUl- 
ancc  ! 

Rose  (timidly).  And, 
if  it  would  give  3'ou 
any  pleasure,  I'm  sure 
I  could  soon  learn  the 
tight-rope  ! 

Colts.  Not  at  yoifr 
time  o'  life.  Miss,  and 
besides,  'ang  it,  now 
I'm  a  lord,  I  can't  have 
my  wife  doin'  nothing  low 

The  E.    Spoken  like  a 
the  revels  re-commence. 

[Re-enter  Mrs.  Horehound. 

Horeh.  (to  Lord  B.).  Now  then,  stoopid,  tumble,  can't  you 
— what  are  you  'ere  for  ? 

Lord  B.  (to  the  Earl),    Since  it  is  your  command,  I  obey, 
though  it  is  ill  tumbling  with  a  heavy  heart ! 

[^Turns  head  over  heels  laboriously. 


Lord  13.  ill  ti'-;-1it> 


true  Burntalmond  !    And  now  let 


118  MB.     PUNCH'S   MODEL    MUSIC  HALL. 

Colts.  Call  that  a  somersault  ?  'Ere,  'old  my  'at  {giving 
tall  hat  to  Lady  R.)     Til  show  yer  'ow  to  do  a  turn. 

[Throws  a  triple  somersault. 

All.  What  condescension  I  How  his  aristocratic  superiority 
is  betrayed,  even  in  competition  with  those  to  the  manner 
born ! 

Mrs.  Iloreh.  (still  in  ignorance  of  the  transformation). 
Halt !  I  have  kept  silence  till  now — even  from  my  husband, 
but  the  time  has  come  when  I  must  speak.  Think  you  that 
if  he  were  indeed  a  lord,  he  could  turn  such  somersaults  as 
those?  No — no.  I  will  reveal  all.  {Tells  same  old  story — 
except  that  she  Iters  elf  from  ambitious  motives  transposed  the 
infants^  hows.)     Now,  do  with  me  what  you  will  ! 

Horch.  Confusion,  so  my  ill-judged  action  did  but  redress 
the  wrong  I  designed  to  effect ! 

The  E.  {annoyed).  This  is  a  serious  matter,  reflecting  as 
it  does  upon  the  legitimacy  of  my  lately  recovered  son. 
What  proof  have  you,  woman,  of  jowc  preposterous  allegation  ? 

JSIrs.  II.    None,  my  lord, — but  these — 

\Exhihits  two  faded  hunches  of  rihhon. 

The  E.  I  cannot  resist  such  ^overwhelming  evidence,  fight 
against  it  as  I  may. 

Lord  B.  {triumphantly).  And  so — oh.  Father,  Mother, 
Bose — dear,  dear  Rose — I  am  no  acrobat,  after  all ! 

The  E.  {sternly).  Would  you  were  anything  half  so 
serviceable  to  the  community,  Sir  !  I  have  no  superstitious 
reverence  for  rank,  and  am,  I  trust,  sufficiently  enlightened  to 
discern  worth  and  merit — even  beneath  the  spangled  vest  of 
the  humblest  acrobat.  Your  foster-brother,  brief  as  our 
acquaintance  has  been,  has  already  endeared  himself  to  all 
hearts,  while  you  have  borne  a  trifling  reverse  of  fortune 
with  sullen  discontent  and  conspicuous  incapacity.     He  has 


COMING    OF   AGE.  111> 


perfected  himself  in  a  lofty  and  distinguished  profession 
during  years  spent  by  you^  Sir,  in  idly  cumbering  the  earth 
of  Eton  and  Oxford.  Shall  I  allow  him  to  suffer  by  a  purely 
accidental  coincidence  ?  Never  !  I  owe  him  reparation,  and 
it  shall  be  paid  to  the  uttermost  penny.  From  this  day,  I 
adopt  him  as  my  eldest  son,  and  the  heir  to  my  earldom,  and 
all  other  real  and  personal  effects.  See,  Eobert  Henry,  that 
you  treat  your  foster-brother  as  your  senior  in  future  ! 

Colts,  {to  Lord  B.).  Way-oh,  ole  matey,  I  don't  bear  no 
malice,  I  don't !     Give  us  your  dooks.  [Offering  hand. 

The  C.  Ah,  Bullsaye,  try  to  be  worthy  of  such  generosity  ! 
[Lord  B.  grasps  Coltsfoot's  hajid  in  silence. 

Lady  Bose.  And  pray,  understand  that,  whether  Mr. 
Coltsfoot  be  viscount  or  acrobat,  it  can  make  no  difference 
whatever  to  the  disinterested  affection  with  which  I  have 
lately  learnt  to  regard  him. 

[Gives  her  hand  to  Coltsfoot,  wJio  squeezes  it  with  ardour. 

Colts,  {pleasantly).  Well,  Father,  Mother,  your  noble 
Herlship  and  Lady,  foster-brother  Bullsaye,  and  my  pretty 
little  sweetart  'ere,  what  do  you  all  say  to  goin'  inside  and 
shunting  a  little  garbage,  and  shifting  a  drop  or  so  of  lotion, 
eh? 

The  E.  A  most  sensible  suggestion,  my  boy.  Let  us 
make  these  ancient  walls  the  scene  of  the  blithest — ahem  ! — 
heano  they  have  ever  yet  beheld  ! 

[Cheers  from  Tenantry,  as  the  Earl  leads  the  lu ay  into  the 
Castle  2vit]i  Mrs.  Horehound,  followed  by  Hore- 
HOUND  icith  the  Countess  and  Coltsfoot  icith  Lady 
BosE,  Lord  Bullsaye,  discomfited  and  ahasJied, 
entering  last  as  Curtain  falls. 


vii.-RECLAIMED  I 

OE,  HOW  LITTLE  ELFIE  TAUGHT  HER  GEANDMOTHER. 

CHARlCTErvS. 

Lady  Belledame  (a  Dowager  of  the  deepest  dye). 

llonJishood  {her  Steward,  and  confidential  Minion). 

Little  Elfie  [an  Angel  Child).  This  part  has  been  specially  constructed 
for  that  celebrated  Infant  Actress  Banjoist,  and  Yariety  Come- 
dienne, Miss  Birdie  CALLOWcniCK. 

Scene — The  Panelled  Boom  at  Nightshade  Hall. 

Lady  Belledame  {discovered  lireparing  imrcels).  Old  and 
unloved ! — yes  the  longer  I  live,  tlie  more  plainly  do  I  per- 
ceive that  I  am  not  a  popular  old  woman.  Have  I  not 
acquired  the  reputation  in  the  County  of  being  a  witch  ? 
My  neighbour,  Sir  Yevey  Long,  asked  me  publicly  only  the 
other  day  "  when  I  would  like  my  broom  ordered,"  and 
that  minx,  Lady  Yiolet  Powdray,  has  pointedly  mentioned 
old  cats  in  my  hearing !  Pergament,  my  family  lawj^er, 
has  declined  to  act  for  me  any  longer,  merely  because 
Monkshood  rack-rented  some  of  the  tenants  a  little  too 
energetically  in  the  Torture  Chamber — as  if  in  these  hard 
times  one  was  not  justified  in  putting  the  screw  on  !  Then 
the  villagers  scowl  when  I  pass ;  the  very  children  shrink 
from  me — [A  childish  Voice  outside  ivindoiv,  "  Yah,  'oo  sold 
'erself  to  Old  Bogie  for  a  pound  o'  tea  an'  a  set  o'  noo  teeth  ?"] 
— that  is,  when  they  do  not  insult  me  by  suggestions  of 
bargains  that  are  not  even  businesslike !  No  matter  — 
I  will  be  avenged  upon  them  all — ay,  all !     'Tis  Christmas- 


BECLAIMEI)  !  121 


time — the  season  at  which  sentimental  fools  exchange  gifts 
and  good  wishes.  For  once  I,  too,  will  distribute  a  few 
seasonable  presents  .  .  .  (Ins2)ecting  imrcels.)  Are  my 
arrangements  complete  ?  The  bundle  of  choice  cigars,  in 
each  of  which  a  charge  of  nitro-glycerine  has  been  dexter- 
ously inserted  ?  The  lip-salve,  made  up  from  my  own  pre- 
scription with  corrosive  sublimate  by  a  venal  chemist  in  the 
vicinity  ?  The  art  flower-pot,  containing  a  fine  specimen  of 
the  Upas  plant,  swathed  in  impermeable  sacking  ?  The 
sweets  compounded  with  sugar  of  lead  ?  The  packet  of 
best  ratsbane  ?  Yes,  nothing  has  been  omitted.  Now  to 
summon  my  faithful  Monkshood.  .  .  Ha  !  he  is  already  at 
hand. 

[Chord  as  Monkshood  enters. 

Monkshood.  Your  Ladyship,  a  child,  whose  sole  luggage 
is  a  small  bandbox  and  a  large  banjo,  is  without,  and  re- 
quests the  favour  of  a  personal  interview. 

Lady  B.  {reproachfully).  And  you,  who  have  been  with  me 
all  these  years,  and  know  my  waj's,  omitted  to  let  loose  the 
bloodhounds  ?   You  grow  careless.  Monkshood  ! 

Monies,  {wounded).  Your  Ladyship  is  unjust — I  did  un- 
loose the  bloodhounds ;  but  the  ferocious  animals  merely  sat 
up  and  begged.  The  child  had  took  the  precaution  to  pro- 
vide herself  with  a  bun  ! 

Lady  B.  No  matter,  she  must  be  removed — I  care  not 
how. 

Monks.  There  may  be  room  for  one  more — a  little  one — 
in  the  old  well.  The  child  mentioned  that  she  was  your 
Ladyship's  granddaughter,  but  I  presume  that  will  make  no 
difference  ? 

Lady  B.  {disquieted).  AYJiat ! — then  she  must  be  the  child 
of  my  only  son  Poldoodle,  whom,  for  refusing  to  cut  off  the 
entail,  I  had  falsely  accused  of  adulterating  milk,  and  trans- 


122  MR.    PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIC  HALL. 

jjorted  beyond  the  seas  !  She  comes  hither  to  denounce  and 
reproach  me  !  Monkshood,  she  must  not  leave  this  place 
iilive — you   hear? 

Monks.    I  require  no  second  bidding — ha,  the  child  .  .  . 
she  comes  ! 
[Chord.    Little  Elfie  trips  in  ivith  touching  self-confidence. 

Elfie  (in  a  charming  little  Cockney  accent).  Yes,  Grandma, 
it's  me — little  Elfie,  come  all  the  way  from  Australia  to  see 
3'ou,  because  I  thought  you  must  be  sow  lownly  all  by  your- 
self!  My  Papa  often  told  me  what  a  long  score  he  owed  you, 
and  how  he  hoped  to  pay  you  off  if  he  lived.  But  he  went 
out  to  business  one  day — Pa  was  a  bushranger,  you  know,  and 
worked — oh,  so  hard ;  and  never  came  back  to  his  little  Elfie, 
so  poor  little  Elfie  has  come  to  live  with  you ! 

Monks.    Will  you  have  the  child  removed  now,  my  Lady? 

Lady  B.  {undecidedly).  Not  now — not  yet;  I  have  other 
work  for  you.  These  Christmas  gifts,  to  be  distributed 
amongst  my  good  friends  and  neighbours  {handing  imrccls). 
First,  this  bundle  of  cigars  to  Sir  Yevey  Long  with  my  best 
wishes  that  such  a  connoisseur  in  tobacco  may  find  them 
sufficiently  strong.  The  salve  for  Lady  Yiolet  Powdray,  with 
my  love,  and  it  should  be  rubbed  on  the  last  thing  at  night. 
The  plant  you  will  take  to  the  little  Pergaments — 'twill  serve 
them  for  a  Christmas  tree.  This  packet  to  be  diluted  in  a 
barrel  of  beer,  which  you  will  see  broached  upon  the  village 
green ;  these  sweetmeats  for  distribution  among  the  most 
deserving  of  the  school- children. 

Elfie  {throwing  her  arms  around  Lady  B.'s  neck).  I  do  like 
you.  Grandma ,  j'ou  have  such  a  kind  face  !  And  oh,  what  pains 
you  must  have  taken  to  find  something  that  will  do  for 
everybody  ! 

Lady  B.  {disengaging  herself  peevishly).  Yes,  yes,  child. 
I  trust  that  what  I  have  chosen  will  indeed  do  for  everybody, 


RECLAIMED  ! 


123 


— but  I  do  not  like  to  be  messed  about.     Monkshood,  you 
know  what  you  have  to  do. 

Elfie.  Oh,  I  am  sure  he  does.  Grandma !  See  how 
benevolently  he  smiles.  You're  such  a  good  old  man,  you 
will  take  care  that  all  the  poor  people  are  fed,  icori't  you? 


Little  Elfie. 

Monks,  (with  a  sinister  smile).    Ah!  Missie,  I've  'elped  to 
settle  a  many  people's  'ash  in  my  time  ! 

Elfie  (innocently).  What,  do  they  all  get  hash?  How  nice! 
I  like  hash, — but  what  else  do  you  give  them? 

Monks,  (cjrimly).    Gruel,  Missie.    (Aside.)    I  must  get  out 
of  this,  or  this  innocent  child's  prattle  will  unman  me  ! 

[Exit  icith  parcels. 


124  3IE.    PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIC  HALL. 

Elfle.  You  seem  so  sad  and  troubled,  Grandma.  Let  me 
sing  you  one  of  the  songs  with  which  I  drew  a  smile  from 
poor  dear  Pa  in  happier  days. 

Lady  B.  No,  no,  some  other  time.  (Aside.)  Pshaw!  why 
should  I  dread  the  effect  of  her  simple  melodies?  (Aloud.) 
Sing,  child,  if  you  will. 

Elfie.     How  glad  I  am  that  I  brought  my  banjo  !     [Sings. 

T)ar  is  a  luhly  yaller  gal  dat  tickles  vie  to  deff; 
She'll  dance  dc  room  oh  darkies  doicn,  and  take  away  deirhrcff. 
When  she  sits  down  to  supper,  ehery  coloured  gemple-man, 
As  she  gets  her  upper  lip  o'er  a  plate  o'  "  jwssom  dipy'"  cries, 
*'  Woa,  Lucindy  Ann  I  "     (Chorus,  dear  Granny !) 

Chorus. 
Woa,  Lucindy  !     Woa,  Lucindy  !     Woa,  Lucindy  Ann  ! 
At  de  rate  dat  you  are  stujfin,  you  U'ill  nehher  leave  us  nujjin  ; 
so  uoa,  Miss  Sindy  Ann  ! 

To  Lady  B.  (who,  after  joining  in  chorus  with  deep 
emotion,  has  hurst  into  tears).  Why,  you  are  weeping,  dear 
Grandmother ! 

Ijady  B.  Nay,  'tis  nothing,  child — but  have  you  no  songs 
which  are  less  sad  ? 

Elfie.  Oh,  yes,  I  know  plenty  of  plantation  ditties  more 
cheerful  than  that.     (Sings.) 

Oil,  I  hear  a  gentle  uhisper  from  dc  days  oh  long  ago, 
When  I  used  to  he  a  happij  darkle  slave. 

[Trump-a-trump  f 

But  noiv  I'se  got  to  labour  vnf  the  shorel  an'  de  hoe — 
For  olc  Massa  lies  a  slcepin'  in  his  grave  I 

[Trump-trump  f 
Chorus. 

Poor  ole  Massa !     I^oor  ole  Massa !    (Pianissimo.)     Poor  ole 
Massa,  that  I  nehher  more  shall  see  ! 


RECLAIMED  !  125 


lie  2vas  let  off  by  de  Jury,     Way  down  in  old  Missouri — But 
dey  lynched  him  on  a  iicrsimmon  tree. 

Elfie.  You  smile  at  last,  dear  Grandma  !  I  would  sing  to 
you  again ,  but  I  am  so  veiy ,  very  sleepy  ! 

Lady  B.  Poor  child,  you  have  had  a  long  journey.  Eesfe 
fiwhile  on  this  couch,  and  I  will  arrange  this  screen  so  as  to 
])rotect  your  slumbers.  [Leads  little  Elfie  to  couch. 

Elfie  {sleepily).  Thanks,  dear  Grandma,  thanks  .  .  .  Now 
I  shall  go  to  sleep,  and  dream  of  you,  and  the  dogs,  and 
angels.  I  so  often  dream  about  angels — but  that  is  generally 
after  supper,  and  to-night  I  have  had  no  supper  .  .  .  ]^ut 
never  mind  .  .  .  Good  night,  Grannie,  good  night  .  .  .  goo'ni' 
-  .  .  goo  .  .  goo  !  [She  sinks  softly  to  sleep. 

Lady  B.  And  I  was  about  to  set  the  bloodhounds  upon 
this  little  sunbeam !  'Tis  long  since  these  grim  walls  have 
echoed  strains  so  sweet  as  hers.  (Croons.)  "Woa,  Lucindy'* 
-&C.  "Dey  tried  him  by  a  Jury,  way  down  in  ole  Missouri, 
an'  dey  hung  him  to  a  possumdip  tree  ! "  (Goes  to  couch,  and 
iiazes  on  tlic  little  sleeper.)  How  peacefully  she  slumbers  ! 
What  a  change  has  come  over  me  in  one  short  hour  ! — my 
withered  heart  is  sending  up  green  shoots  of  tenderness,  of 
love,  and  hope  !  Let  me  try  henceforth  to  be  worthy  of  this 
clear  child's  affection  and  respect.  (Turns,  and  sees  Monks- 
hood.) Ha,  Monkshood  !  Then  there  is  time  yet !  Those 
parcels  .  .  .  quick,  quick  ! — the  parcels  ! 

Monks  (impassively).  Have  been  left  as  you  instructed, 
ray  Lady. 

[Chord.  lundjB.stafigers  hach,  gasping,  into  chair.  Little 
Elfie  awakes  behind  screen,  and  rubs  her  eyes. 

Lady  B.  (in  a  hoarse  ichispcr).  You — you  have  left  the 
parcels  .  .  .  all— a/L^     Tell   me — how  were  they  received? 


126  3IE.    PUNCH'S   MODEL    MUSIC  HALL. 

Speak  low — I  would  not  that  yonder  child  should  awake  and 
hear  ! 

Little  Elfie  (behind  the  screen,  very  ivicle  aivake  indeed). 
Dear,  good  old  Grannie — she  would  conceal  her  generosity — - 
even  from  me  !  {I^oiidhj.)  She  little  thinks  that  I  am  over- 
hearing all ! 

Monks.     I  could  have  sworn  I  heard  wdiispering. 

Lady  B.  Nay,  you  are  mistaken — 'twas  but  the  wind  in 
the  old  wainscot.  {Aside.)  He  is  quite  capable  of  destroying- 
that  innocent  child ;  but  old  and  attached  servant  as  he  is, 
there  are  liberties  I  still  know  how  to  forbid.  {To  M.)  Your 
story — quick ! 

Monks.  First,  I  delivered  the  cigars  to  Sir  Yevey  Long, 
whom  I  found  under  his  verandah.  He  seemed  surprised  and 
gratified  by  the  gift,  selected  a  weed,  and  was  proceeding  to- 
light  it,  whilst  he  showed  a  desire  to  converse  familiarly  with 
me.     'Astily  excusing  myself,  I  drove  aw^ay,  when 

Lady  B.  When  icliat  ?  Do  not  torture  a  wretched  old 
woman  ! 

Monks.  When  I  heard  a  loud  report  behind  me,  and,  in 
the  portion  of  a  brace,  two  waistcoat-buttons,  and  half  a 
slipper,  which  hurtled  past  my  ears,  I  recognised  all  that  was- 
mortal  of  the  late  Sir  Yevey.  You  mixed  them  cigars  un- 
common strong,  m'Lady. 

Elfie  {aside).  Can  it  be?  But  no,  no.  I  will  not  believe 
it.     I  am  sure  that  dear  Granny  meant  no  harm ! 

Lady  B.  {with  a  grim  j)ride  she  cannot  wholly  repress).  I 
have  devoted  some  study  to  the  subject  of  explosives.  'Tis 
another  triumph  to  the  Anti-tobacconists.  And  what  of  Lady 
Yiolet  Powdray — did  she  apply  the  salve  ? 

Mojiks.  Judging  from  the  'eartrending  'owds  which  pro- 
ceeded from  Carmine  Cottage,  the  salve  was  producing  the 
desired  result.    Her  Ladyship,  'owever,  terminated  her  suffer- 


RECLAIMED !  12^ 


ings  somewhat  prematoor  by  jumping  out  of  a  top  winder  just 
as  I  was  taking  my  departure 

Lady  B.  She  should  have  died  hereafter — but  no  matter 
.  .  .  and  the  Upas-tree? 

Monks.  was  presented  to  the  Pergaments,  who  un- 
packed it,  and  loaded  its  branches  with  toys  and  tapers ;  after 
which  Mr.  Pergament,  Mrs.  P.,  and  all  the  little  Pergaments 
joined  'ands,  and  danced  round  it  in  light'arted  glee.  {In  a 
sombre  tone.)  They  little  knoo  as  how  it  was  their  dance  of 
death ! 

Lady  B.  That  knowledge  will  come !  And  the  beer^ 
Monkshood — you  saw  it  broached  ? 

Monks.  Upon  the  village  green;  the  mortality  is  still 
spreading,  it  being  found  impossible  to  undo  the  knots  in 
which  the  victims  have  tied  themselves.  The  sweetmeats- 
were  likewise  distributed,  and  the  floor  of  the  hinfant- school 
now  resembles  one  vast  fly-paper. 

Lady  B.  (with  a  touch  of  remorse).  The  children  tool 
Was  not  my  little  Elfie  once  an  infant?  Ah  me,  ah 
me! 

Elfie  (aside).  Once — but  that  was  long,  long  ago.  And, 
oh,  hoiv  disappointed  I  am  in  poor  dear  Grandmama ! 

Lady  B.  Monkshood,  you  should  not  have  done  these 
things — you  should  have  saved  me  from  myself.  You  must 
have  known  how  greatly  all  this  would  increase  my  unpopu- 
larity in  the  neighbourhood. 

Monks,  (sidkily).  And  this  is  my  reward  for  obeying 
orders  !  Take  care,  my  Lady.  It  suits  you  now  to  throw 
me  aside  like  a — (castiny  about  for  an  original  simile) — like 
a  old  glove,  because  this  innocent  grandchild  of  yours  ha& 
touched  your  flinty  'art.  But  where  will  you  be  when  she 
learns ? 

Lady  B.  (in  agony).     Ah,  no.  Monkshood,  good,  faithful 


128  MR.    PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIC   HALL. 

Monkshood,  she  must  never  know  that !  Think,  Monkshood, 
you  would  not  tell  her  that  the  Grandmother  to  whom  she 
looks  up  with  such  touching,  childlike  love,  was  a — homicide 
— you  would  not  do  that  ? 

Monks.  Some  would  say  even  'omicide  was  not  too  hlack 
a  name  for  all  you've  done.  (Lady  Belledame  shudders.) 
I  might  tell  Miss  Elfie  how  you've  hlowed  up  a  live  Baronet, 
corrosive  suhlimated  a  gentle  Lady,  honly  for  'aving,  in  a 
moment  of  candour,  called  you  a  hold  cat,  and  distributed 
pison  in  a  variety  of  forms  about  this  smiling  village ;  and,  if 
that  don't  inspire  her  with  distrust,  I  don't  know  the  nature 
of  children,  that's  all !  I  might  tell  her,  I  say,  and,  if  I'm  to 
keep  my  mouth  shut,  I  shall  expect  it  to  be  considered  in  my 
wages. 

Lady  B.  I  knew  you  had  a  good  heart !  I  will  pay  you 
anything — anything,  provided  you  shield  my  guilt  from  her 
.  .  .  wait,  you  shall  have  gold,  gold.  Monkshood,  gold ! 

[Chord.    Little  Elfie  suddenly  conies  from  behind  screen; 
limelight  on  her.     The  other  two  shrink  hack. 

Elfie.  Do  not  give  that  bad  old  man  money,  Grandmother, 
for  it  will  only  be  wasted. 

Lady  B.    Speak,  child  ! — how  much  do  you  know? 

Elfie.    All !  [Chord.    Lady  B.  collapses  on  chair. 

Lady  B.  {tvith  an  effort).  And  now,  Elfie,  that  you  know, 
you  scorn  and  hate  your  poor  old  Grandmother — is  it  not  so? 

Elfie.  It  is  wrong  to  hate  one's  Grandmother,  whatever 
she  does.  At  first  when  I  heard,  I  was  very,  very  sorry.  I 
did  think  it  was  most  unkind  of  you.  But  now,  oh,  I  can't 
believe  that  you  had  not  some  good,  wise  motive,  in  acting  as 
you  did ! 

Lady  B.  {in  conscience-stricken  aside).  Even  iliis  cannot 
.shatter  her  alrtess  faith  .  .  .  Oh,  wretch,  wretch  ! 

[Covers  Iter  face. 


RECLAIMED  ! 


12:> 


Monies.  Motive — I  believe  you  there,  Missie.  Why,  she 
went  and  insured  all  their  lives  aforehand,  she  did. 

Lady  B.  Monkshood,  in  pity  hold  your  peace ! 

Elfie  {her  face  beaming).  I  knew  it — I  was  sure  of  it ! 
Oh,  Granny,  my  dear,  kind  old  Granny,  you  insured  their 


••  Good-Lye  J  Good-bye  !  " 

lives  first,  so  that  no  real  harm  could  possibly  happen  to  them 
— oh,  I  am  so  happy  ! 

Lady  B.  {aside).  What  shall  I  say?  Merciful  Powers, 
what  shall  I  say  to  her?  [LHsturhed  sounds  ivithout. 

Monks.  I  don't  know  what  you'd  better  say,  but  I  can  tell 
you  what  your  Ladyship  had  better  do — and  that  is,   take 


130  MB.    PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIC  HALL. 

your  'ook  while  you  can.  Even  now  the  outraged  populace 
approaches,  to  wreak  a  hawful  vengeance  upon  your  guilty 
'ed !  [Melodramatic  music. 

Lady  B,  (distractedly).  A  mob!  I  cannot  face  them — 
they  will  tear  me  limb  from  limb.  At  my  age  I  could  not 
survive  such  an  indignity  as  that !  Hide  me,  Monkshood — 
help  me  to  escape ! 

Monks.  There  is  a  secret  underground  passage,  known 
only  to  myself,  communicating  with  the  nearest  railway 
station.  I  will  point  it  out,  and  personally  conduct  your 
Ladyship — for  a  consideration — one  thousand  pounds  down. 

[The  noise  increases. 

Elfie.  No,  Granny,  don't  trust  him !  Be  calm  and  brave. 
Await  the  mob  here.  Leave  it  all  to  me.  I  will  explain 
everything  to  them — how  you  meant  no  ill, — how,  at  the 
very  time  they  thought  you  were  meditating  an  injury,  you 
were  actually  spending  money  in  insuring  all  their  lives. 
When  I  tell  them  that 

Monks.  Ah,  you  tell  'em  that,  and  see.  It's  too  late  now 
— they  are  here  ! 

[SJwuis  nithout.  Lady  B.  crouches  on  floor.  Little  Elfie 
goes  to  the  windoiv,  throu's  opeii  the  shutters^  and 
stands  on  balcony  in  her  fluttering  ichite  rohe,  and 
the  limeUght, 

Elfie.  Yes,  they  are  here.  Why,  they  are  carrying  torches ! 
— (Lady  B.  groans) — and  banners,  too  !  I  think  they  have  a 
band  .  .  .  Who  is  that  tall,  stout  gentleman,  in  the  white  hat, 
on  horseback,  and  the  lady  in  a  pony-trap,  with,  oh,  such  a 
beautiful  complexion  !  There  is  an  inscription  on  one  of  the 
flags — I  can  read  it  quite  plainly.  ^^  Thanks  to  the  generous 
Donor!''  (That  must  be  you^  Grandmother!)  And  there 
are  children  who  dance,  and  scatter  flowers.    They  are  asking 


RECLAIMED  !  131 


for  a  speech.  {Speaking  off.)  **If  you  please,  Ladies  and  Gen- 
tlemen, my  Grandmamma  is  not  at  all  well,  but  she  wishes 
me  to  say  she  wishes  you  a  Merry  Christmas,  and  is  very  glad 
you  all  like  your  presents  so  much.  Good-bye,  ^oocZ-bye  !  " 
{Returning  down  Stage.)  Now  they  have  gone  away,  Granny 
.  .  .  They  did  look  so  grateful ! 

Lady  B.  {Ijeicildered).  What  is  this !  Sir  Yevey,  Lady 
Violet, — alive,  well?  This  deputation  of  gratitude?  Am  I 
mad,  dreaming — or  what  does  it  all  mean  ? 

Monks,  {doggedly).  It  means  that  the  sight  of  this  'ere 
angel  child  recalled  me  to  a  sense  of  what  I  might  be  exposin' 
myself  to  by  carrying  out  your  Ladyship's  commands ;  and  so 
I  took  the  liberty  of  substitootin  gifts  more  calculated  to 
inspire  gratitude  in  their  recipients — that's  what  it  means. 

Lady  B.  Wretch  ! — then  you  have  disobeyed  me?  You 
leave  this  day  month  ! 

Eljie  {pleading).  Nay,  Grandmother,  bear  with  him,  for 
has  not  his  disobedience  spared  you  from  acts  that  you  might 
some  day  have  regretted?  .  .  .  There,  Mr.  Butler,  Granny 
forgives  you — see,  she  holds  out  her  hand,  and  here's  mine; 
and  now 

Lady  B.  {smiling  tenderly).  Now  you  shall  sing  us  *^Woa, 
Liicindaf' 

[Little  Elfie  fetches  her  banjo,  and  sings,  "Woa, 
Lucinda!''  her  Grandmother  and  the  aged  Steicard 
joining  in  the  dance  and  chorus,  and  embracing  the 
child,  to  form  picture  as  Curtain  falls. 


K    2 


viii.-JACK    PARKER; 

OE,    THE    BULL    WHO    KNEW    HIS    BUSINESS. 
Characteks. 

Jack  ParJcer  {''was  a  cruel  hoy,  For  mischief  luaa  his  sole  emploTj.''^ — Vide 

Miss  J  AXE  Taylor. 
Miss  Lydia  Batdcs  ("  though  very  young,  Will  never  do  whafs  rude  or 

wrong, '^ — Ditto.) 

Farmer  Banls  .         •   )     -r.      ,      -r.     ,,         ^m 

T.     ,  ,    ^  ,7   ?    3^y  the  Brothers  Guiffiths. 
J^armer  Banks  s  Bull   ) 

Chorus  of  Farm  Hands. 

Scene. — A  Farmyard,  r.  a  stall  from  ^vJiicJt  the  head  of  the 
Bull  is  visible  above  the  half-door.  Enter  Farmer  Banks 
ivith  a  cudgel. 

Farmer  B.  {moodily).     When  roots  are  quiet,  and  cereals  are 
dull, 
I  vent  my  irritation  on  the  Bull. 
[TFc  have  Miss  Taylor's  own  authority  for  this  rhyme. 

Come  hup,  you  beast ! 
[^Opens  stall  and  flourishes  cudgel — the  Bull  comes  for- 
ivard  ivith  an  air  of  ddiberate  defiance. 

Oh,  turning  narsty,  is  he  ? 

[Ajwlogetically  to  Bull. 
Another  time  will  do  !     I  see  you're  busy  ! 


JACK    PARKER.  133 


[The  Bidlf  after  some  consideration ,  deckles  to  accept  this 
retractation,  and  retreats  2cith  dignity  to  his  stall, 
the  door  of  which  he  carefully  fastens  after  him. 
Exit  Farmer  Banks,  l.,  as  Lydia.  Banks  enters  u. 
accomjxinied  by  Chorus.  The  Bidl  exhibits  the  live- 
liest interest  in  her  iiroceedinys,  as  he  looks  on,  witJt 
his  forelegs  folded  easily  npon  the  top  of  the  door. 


Sony — Lydia  Banks  {in  Polka  time). 

I'm  the  child  by  Miss  Jane  Taylor  sung  ; 

Umiaturally  good  for  one  so  young — 

A'  pattern  for  the  people  that  I  go  among, 

With  my  moral  little  tags  on  the  tip  of  my  tongue. 

And  I  often  feel  afraid  that  I  shan't  live  long. 

For  I  never  do  a  thing  that's  rude  or  wrong  ! 

Chorus  {to  ichich  the  Bull  beats  time).     As  a  general  rule, 
one  doesn't  live  long. 
If  you  never  do  a  thing  that's  rude  or  wrong  ! 


Second  Verse. 

My  words  are  all  with  wisdom  fraught, 
To  make  polite  replies  I've  sought ; 
And  learned  by  independent  thought. 
That  a  pinafore,  inked,  is  good  for  nought. 
So  wonderfully  well  have  I  been  taught. 
That  I  turn  my  toes  as  children  ought ! 

Chorus  {to  nhich  the  Bull  dances).     This  moral  lesson  she's 
been  taught — 
She  turns  her  toes  as  children  ouefht ! 


134  MB.    PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIC  HALL. 

Lydia  {sweetly).    Yes,  I'm  the   Farmer's   daughter — Lydia 
Banks  ; 
No  person  ever  caught  me  playing  pranks  ! 
I'm  loved  by  all  the  live-stock  on  the  farm, 

[Ironical  applause  from  the  Bull. 
Pigeons  I've  plucked  will  perch  upon  my  arm. 
And  pigs  at  my  approach  sit  up  and  beg. 

{Business  by  Bull. 

For  me  the  partial  peacock  saves  his  egg, 
No  sheep  e'er  snaps  if  I  attempt  to  touch  her. 
Lambs  like  it  when  I  lead  them  to  the  butcher ! 
Each  morn  I  milk  my  rams  beneath  the  shed, 
While  rabbits  flutter  twittering  round  my  head. 
And,  as  befits  a  dairy-farmer's  daughter. 
What  milk  I  get  I  supplement  with  water, 

[A  huge  Shadow  is  thrown  on  the  road  outside ;  Lydia 
starts. 

Whose  shadow  is  it  makes  the  highway  darker  ? 
That  bullet  head  !  those  ears  !  it  is Jack  Parker ! 

[Chord.     The  Chorus  flee  in  dismay,  as  Jack  enters 
icith  a  reckless  sivagger. 

Song — Jack  Parker. 

I'm  loafing  about,  and  I  very  much  doubt 
If  my  excellent  Ma  is  aware  that  I'm  out ; 
My  time  I  employ  in  attempts  to  annoy. 
And  I'm  not  what  you'd  call  an  agreeable  boy ! 
I  shoe  the  cats  with  walnut-shells  ; 

Tin  cans  to  curs  I  tie  ; 
Eing  furious  knells  at  front-door  bells — 
Then  round  the  corner  fly  ! 


JACK    FARKEE.  135 


'Neath  donkeys'  tails  I  fasten  farze, 

Or  timid  horsemen  scare ; 
If  chance  occurs,  I  stock  with  burrs 

My  little  Sister's  hair  ! 

[The  Bull  shakes  his  head  rej^rovingly , 

Such  tricks  give  me  joy  without  any  alloy, 
But  they  do  not  denote  an  agreeable  boy  ! 

[As  Jack  Parker  concludes,  tJie  Bull  ducks  cautiously 
heloio  the  half-door,  wJdle  Lydia  conceals  herself 
heJiind  the  j^umj),  l.c. 

Jack  {ivandering  about  stage  discontentedly).     I  thought  at 
least  there'd  be  some  beasts  to  badger  here ! 
Call  this  a  farm — there  ain't   a  blooming   spadger 
here ! 

[Approaches  stall — Bull  raises  head  suddenly, 

A  bull  !     This  is  a  lark  I've  long  awaited  ! 
He's  in  a  stable,  so  he  should  be  baited. 

[The  Bull  shoivs  symptoms  of  acute  depression  at  this  jea 
de  mots  ;  Lydia  comes  forward  indignantly. 

Lydia.     I  can't  stand  by  and  see  that  poor  bull  suffer  ! 
Excitement's  sure  to  make  his  beef  taste  tougher  ! 

[The  Bidl  emphatically  corroborates  this  statement. 

Be  warned  by  Miss  Jane  Taylor  ;  fractured  skulls 

Invariably  come  from  teasing  bulls  ! 

So  let  that  door  alone,  nor  lift  the  latchet ; 

For  if  the  bull  gets  out — why,  then  you'll  catch  it  ! 

Jack.    A  fractured  skull  ?    Yah,  don't  believe  a  word  of  it  / 


13r>  MR.    PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIC  HALL. 

[liaises  latchet :  chord;  Bull  comes  slowly  oiit^  ajul 
crouches  ominously ;  Jack  retreats^  and  takes  refiKje 
on  top  ofpumjy :  the  Bull,  after  scratching  his  hack 
With  his  off  foreleg,  makes  a  sudden  rush  at  Lydia. 

Jjydla  {as  she  evades  it).     Here,  help  ! — it's  chasing  me  ! 
— it's  too  absurd  of  it ! 
Go  away,  Bull — with  me  you  have  no  quarrel ! 

[The  Bull  intimates  that  he  is  acting  from  a  deep  sense  of 
duty, 

I^ydia  (impatiently).     You  stupid  thing,  you're  ruining  the 
moral !  .  , 

[TJic  Bull  persists  obstinately  in  his  jMrsuif. 

Jack  (from   top  of  pumj)).      Well  dodged,  Miss  Banks  ! 
although  the  Bull  I'll  back  ! 

[Enter  Farm-hands. 

Lydia.     Come    quick  —  this    Bull's    mistaking    me    for 

Jack ! 
Jack,     He  knows  his  business  best,  I  shouldn't  wonder. 
FarmJiands  (philosophically).     He  ain't  the  sort  of  Bull  to 

make  a  blunder.  [They  look  on. 

Lydia>  (panting.)     Such  violent  exercise  will  soon  exhaust 

me  ! 

[The  Bull  comes  behind  her. 

Oh,  Bull,  it  is  unkind  of  you  .  .   .  you've  tossed  me  ! 

[L^alls  on  ground,  ichile  the  Bull  stands  over  her,  in 
readiness  to  give  the  coup  de  grace ;  Lydia  calls  for 
help, 

A  FarmJiand  (encouragingly).     Nay,  Miss,  he  seems  moor 
sensible  nor  surly — 
He  knows  as  how  good  children  perish  early ! 


JACK    PARKEIl. 


137 


[The  Bull   nods  'in  achiowledgment  that  he  is  at  last 
understood,  and  slaps  las  chest  with  Ids  forelegs. 

Lydia.     Bull,  I'll  turn  naughty,  if  you'll  but  be  lenient ! 
Goodness,  I  see,  is  sometimes  inconvenient. 
I  promise  you  henceforth  I'll  try,  at  any  rate, 
To  act  like  children  who  are  unreixenerate  ! 


On  top  of  the  Pump. 


[TJie  Bull,  after  turning  this  over,   decides   to  accept  a 
compromise. 

Jack.     And,  Lydia,  when  you  ready  for  a  lark  are. 

Just  give  a  chyhike  to  your  friend — Jack  Parker  ! 

{They  shake  hands  warmly. 


138  MR.    PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIC  HALL. 


Finale. 

Lydia.     I  thought  to  slowly  fade  away  so  calm  and  beau- 
tiful. 
(Though  I  didn't  mean  to  go  just  yet)  ; 
But   you   get   no  chance  for   pathos  when   you're 
chivied  by  a  bull  ! 
(So  I  thought  I  wouldn't  go  just  yet.) 
For  I  did  feel  so  upset,  when  I  found  that  all  you  get 
By  the  exercise  of  virtue,  is  that  bulls  will  come  and 
hurt  you  ! 
That  I  thought  I  w^ouldn't  go  just  yet ! 

Chorus.        We  hear,  with  some  regret. 

That  she  doesn't  mean  to  go  just  yet. 
But  a  Bull  with  horns  that  hurt  you 
Is  a  poor  return  for  virtue, 
So  she's  wdser  not  to  go  just  yet ! 

[The  Bull  rises  on  his  hindlegs,  and  gives  a  forehoof  each 
to  Lydia  and  Jack,  ivho  dance  ivildly  round  and 
round  as  the  Curtain  falls. 

[N.B. — Music-hall  Managers  are  warned  that  the  morality 
of  this  particular  Drama  may  possibly  be  called  in  question 
by  some  members  of  the  L.  C.  C] 


ix.-UNDER  THE   HARROW. 

A  CONVENTIONAL  COMEBY-MELOBBAMA,  IN  TWO  ACTS. 

Characters. 

Sir  Poslibury  Piiddock  {a  haughty  and  high-minded  Baronet). 

Verbena  Puddock  {his  Daughter). 

Lord  Bleshugh  [her  Lover). 

Spiker  {a  needy  and  unscrupulous  Adventurer). 

Blethers  [an  ancient  and  attached  Domestic). 

ACT    I. 

Scene — The  Morning  Boom  at  Natterjack  Hall,  Toadley-lc- 
Hole;  large  icindow  oi^en  at  hack,  with  heavy  fracticahle 

sash. 

Enter  Blethers. 

Blethers.  Sir  Poshbury's  birthday  to-day — bis  birthday  ! — 
and  the  gentry  giving  of  him  presents.  Oh,  Lor!  if  they  only 
knew  what  I  could  tell  'em!  .  .  .  Ah,  and  must  tell,  too, 
before  long — but  not  yet — not  yet !  [Exit. 

Enter  Lord  Bleshugh  and  Verbena, 

Verh.  Yes,  Papa  is  forty  to-day ;  {innocently)  fancy  living 
to  that  age !  The  tenants  have  presented  him  with  a  hand- 
some jar  of  mixed  pickles,  with  an  appropriate  inscription. 
Papa  is  loved  and  respected  by  every  one.  And  I — well,  I 
have  made  him  a  little  housewife,  containing  needles  and 
thread  ...  See  !  [Shows  it. 


140  MR.    PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIC  HALL. 


Lord  Blesh.  {tenderly).  I  say,  I — I  wish  you  would  make 
me  a  little  housewife  ! 

{^Comedy  love-dialogue  omitted  owinrf  to  want  of  space. 

Verb.  Oh,  do  look  ! — there's  Papa  crossing  the  lawn  with, 
oh,  such  a  horrid  man  following  him  ! 

Lord  B.  Kegular  bounder.     Shocking  bad  hat ! 

Verb.  Not  so  bad  as  his  boots,  and  they  are  not  so  bad 
as  his  face  !  Why  doesn't  Papa  order  him  to  go  away  ?  Oh, 
he  is  actually  inviting  him  in ! 

Enter     Sir     Poshbury,    gloomy    and    constrained^    with 
SpiivER,  who  is  jaunty^  and  somewhat  over  familiar. 

Spiker  {sitting  on  the  inano,  and  dusting  his  hoots  ^cith  his 
handkerchief).  Cosy  little  shanty  you've  got  here,  Puddock — 
very  tasty  ! 

Sir  P.  {ivith  a  gulp).  I  am — ha — delighted  that  you 
approve  of  it !    Ah,  Verbena  !  [Kisses  her  on  forehead. 

Spiher.  Your  daughter,  eh  ?   Pooty  gal.   Introduce  me. 

\^Sir  Posh,  introduces  him — with  an  effort. 

Verbena  {coldly).  How  do  you  do  ?  Papa,  did  you  know 
that  the  sashline  of  this  window  was  broken  ?  If  it  is  not 
mended,  it  will  fall  on  somebody's  head,  and  perhaps  kill 
him ! 

Sir  P.  {absently).  Yes — yes,  it  shall  be  attended  to;  but 
leave  us,  my  child,  go.  Bleshugh,  this — er — gentleman  and 
I  have  business  of  importance  to  discuss. 

Spiker.  Don't  let  us  drive  you  away,  Miss ;  your  Pa  and 
me  are  only  talking  over  old  times,  that's  all — eh.  Posh  ? 

Sir  P.  {in  a  tortured  aside).  Have  a  care.  Sir,  don't  drive 
me  too  far!  {To  Verb.)  Leave  us,  I  say.  (Lord  B.  a7id 
Verb,  go  out,  raising  their  eyebroics.)  Now,  Sir,  what  is  this 
secret  you  profess  to  have  discovered  ? 


UNDER    THE   HARROW. 


141 


Spiker.  Oh,  a  mere  nothing.  {Takes  out  a  cigar.)  Got  a 
light  about  you  ?  Thanks.  Perhaps  you  don't  recollect 
twenty-seven  years  ago  this  very  day,  travelling  from  Edgware 
Road  to  Baker  Street,  by  the  Underground  Railway  ? 

Sir  P.  Perfectly ;  it  was  my  thirteenth  birthday,  and  I 
celebrated  the  event  by  a  visit  to  Madame  Tussaud's. 


-piker  Introduced. 


Spiker.  Exactly ;  it  was  your  thirteenth  birthday,  and  j'ou 
travelled  second-class  with  a  half-ticket — {meaningly) — on 
your  thirteenth  birthday. 

Sir  P,  {terribly  agitated).  Fiend  that  you  are,  how  came 
you  to  learn  this  ? 

Spiker.  Very  simple.  I  was  at  that  time  in  the  temporary 
position  of  ticket-collector  at  Baker  Street.     In  the  exuber- 


112  MR.    PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIC  HALL. 

ance  of  boyhood,  you  cheeked  me.     I  swore  to  be  even  with 
you  some  day. 

Sir  P.  Even  if — if  your  accusation  were  well-founded,  how 
are  you  going  to  prove  it  ? 

Sp.  Oh,  that's  easy !  I  preserved  the  half-ticket,  on  the 
chance  that  I  should  require  it  as  evidence  hereafter. 

Sir  P.  (aside).  And  so  the  one  error  of  an  otherwise 
blameless  boyhood  has  found  me  out — at  last!  {To  Spiker.)  I 
fear  you  not ;  my  crime — if  crime  indeed  it  was — is  surely  con- 
doned by  twenty-seven  long  years  of  unimpeachable  integrity  ! 

Sp.  Bye-laws  are  Bye-laws,  old  Buck  !  there's  no  Statute 
of  Limitations  in  criminal  offences  that  ever  I  heard  of! 
Nothing  can  alter  the  fact  that  you,  being  turned  thirteen, 
obtained  a  half- ticket  by  a  false  representation  that  you  were 
under  age.  A  line  from  me,  even  now,  denouncing  you  to  the 
Traffic  Superintendent,  and  I'm  very  much  afraid 

Sir  P.  {writJiinfi).  Spiker,  my — my  dear  friend,  you  won't 
do  that — you  won't  expose  me  ?  Think  of  my  age,  my  posi- 
tion, my  daughter  ! 

Sp.  Ah,  now  you've  touched  the  right  chord  !  I  was  think- 
ing of  your  daughter — a  nice  lady-like  gal — I  don't  mind  tell- 
ing you  she  fetched  me.  Sir,  at  the  first  glance.  Give  me  her 
hand,  and  I  burn  the  compromising  half-ticket  before  your 
eyes  on  our  return  from  church  after  the  wedding.  Come, 
that's  a  fair  offer  ! 

Sir  P.  (indignantly).  My  child,  the  ripening  apple  of  my 
failing  eje,  to  be  sacrificed  to  a  blackmailing  blackguard  like 
you  !    Never  while  I  live  ! 

Sj).  Just  as  you  please  ;  and,  if  you  will  kindly  oblige  me 
with  WTiting  materials,  I  will  just  drop  a  line  to  the  Traffic 
Superintendent 

Sir  P.  (hoarsely).  No,  no ;  not  that  .  .  .  Wait,  listen;  I — I 
will  speak  to  my  daughter.     I  promise  nothing;  but  if  her 


UNDER    THE   HARROW.  143 

heart  is  still  her  own  to  give,  she  may,  (mind,  I  do  not  say 
she  icill,)  be  induced  to  link  her  lot  to  yours,  though  I 
shall  not  attempt  to  influence  her  in  any  way — in  any  way. 

Sp.  Well,  you  know  your  own  business  best,  old  Cockalo- 
rum. Here  comes  the  young  lady,  so  I'll  leave  you  to 
manage  this  delicate  affair  alone.  Ta-ta.  I  shan't  be  far  off. 
[Sicarjgers  insolently  out  as  Verb,  enters. 

Sir  P.  My  child,  I  have  just  received  an  offer  for  jour 
hand.     I  know  not  if  you  will  consent? 

Verb.  I  can  guess  who  has  made  that  offer,  and  why.  I 
consent  with  all  my  heart,  dear  Papa. 

Sir  P,  Can  I  trust  my  ears !     You  consent  ?     Noble  girl ! 

[He  emhraces  her. 

Verb.  I  was  quite  sure  dear  Bleshugh  meant  to  speak,  and 
I  do  love  him  very  much. 

Sir  P.  (starting).  It  is  not  Lord  Bleshugh,  my  child,  but 
Mr.  Samuel  Spiker,  the  gentleman  (for  he  is  at  heart  a  gentle- 
man) whom  I  introduced  to  you  just  now. 

Ver'b.  I  have  seen  so  little  of  him,  Papa,  I  cannot  love  him 
— you  must  really  excuse  me ! 

Sir  P.  Ah,  but  you  will,  my  darling,  you  will — I  know 
your  unselfish  nature — you  will,  to  save  your  poor  old  dad 
from  a  terrible  disgrace  .  .  yes,  disgrace,  listen  !  Twenty- 
seven  years  age — (he  tells  her  all).  Verbena,  at  this  very 
moment,  there  is  a  subscription  on  foot  in  the  county  to 
present  me  with  my  photograph,  done  by  an  itinerant  photo- 
grapher of  the  highest  eminence,  and  framed  and  glazed  ready 
for  hanging.  Is  that  photograph  never  to  know  the  nail 
which  even  now  awaits  it?  Can  you  not  surrender  a  passing 
girlish  fancy,  to  spare  3'our  fond  old  father's  fame?  Mr. 
Spiker  is  peculiar,  perhaps,  in  many  ways — not  quite  of  our 
monde — but  he  loves  you  sincerely,  my  child,  and  that  is  in 
itself  a  recommendation.     Ah,  I  see — my  prayers  are  vain 


144  ME.    PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIC   HALL. 

...  be  liappy,  then.  As  for  me,  let  the  police  come — I  am 
ready!  [JVee2)s. 

Verb,  Not  so,  Papa  ;  I  will  marry  this  Mr.  Spiker,  since  it 
is  your  wish.  [Sir  Posh,  dries  his  eyes. 

Sir  P.  Here,  Spiker,  my  dear  fellow,  it  is  all  right.  Come 
in.     She  accepts  you. 

Enter  Spiker. 

Sp.  Thought  she  would.  Sensible  little  gal !  Well,  Miss, 
you  shan't  regret  it.  Bless  you,  we'll  be  as  chummy  together 
as  a  couple  of  little  dicky-birds. 

Yerh.  Mr.  Spiker,  let  us  understand  one  another.  I  will 
do  my  best  to  be  a  good  wife  to  you — but  chumminess  is  not 
mine  to  give,  nor  can  I  promise  ever  to  be  your  dicky-bird. 

Enter  Lord  Bleshugh. 

Lord  B.  Sir  Poshbury,  may  I  have  five  minutes  with  you  ? 
Verbena,  you  need  not  go.  {Looking  at  Spiker.)  Perhaps  this 
person  will  kindly  relieve  us  of  his  presence. 

Sp.  Sorry  to  disoblige,  old  fellow,  but  I'm  on  duty  where 
Miss  Verbena  is  now,  you  see,  as  she's  just  promised  to  be 
my  wife. 

Ljord  B.  Your  wife  ! 

Yerh.  (fainthj).  Yes,  Lord  Bleshugh,  his  wife! 

Sir  P.  Yes,  my  poor  boy,  his  wife  ! 

[Verbena  totters,  and  falls  heavilij  in  a  dead  faint,  r.c,  up- 
setting a  flower -stand ;  Lord  Bleshugh  staggers,  and 
swoons  on  sofa,  c,  overturning  a  table  of  knicknacks ; 
Sir  Poshbury  sinks  into  chair,  l.c,  and  covers  Itis  face 
with  liis  hands, 
Sp,  {looking  down  on  them  triumphantly).  Under  the 
Harrow,  by  Gad  !     Under  the  Harrow  ! 

\_Curt:iin,  and  end  of  Act  I. 


UNDER    THE   HARROW.  145 


ACT  II. 

Scene — Same  as  in  Act  I.;  viz.,  the  Morning-Room  at  Nat- 
terjack HalL     Evening  of  same  dag.     Enter  Blethers. 

Blethers.  Another  of  Sir  Poshbury's  birthdays  almost  gone 
— and  my  secret  still  untold !  {Dodders.)  I  can't  keep  it  up 
much  longer.  .  .  Ha,  here  comes  his  Lordship — he  does  look 
mortal  bad,  that  he  do !  Miss  Verbena  ain't  treated  him  too 
well,  from  all  I  can  hear,  poor  young  feller ! 

Enter  Lord  Bleshugii. 

Lord  Bleshugh.  Blethers,  by  the  memory  of  the  innumer- 
able half-crowns  that  have  passed  between  us,  be  my  friend 
now — I  have  no  others  left.  Persuade  your  young  Mistress 
to  come  hither — you  need  not  tell  her  I  am  here,  you  under- 
stand.    Be  discreet,  and  this  florin  shall  be  yours  ! 

Blethers.  Leave  it  to  me,  my  lord.  I'd  tell  a  lie  for  less 
than  that,  any  day,  old  as  I  am  !  [Exit. 

Lord  Bl.  I  cannot  rest  till  I  have  heard  from  her  own  lips 
that  the  past  few  hours  have  been  nothing  but  a  horrible 
dream  .  .  .  She  is  coming !     Xow  for  the  truth  ! 

Enter  Verbena. 

Verbena.  Papa,  did  you  want  me?  (Recognises  Lord  B. — 
controls  herself  to  a  cold  formalitg.)  My  lord,  to  what' do  I 
owe  this — this  unexpected  intrusion?  [Pants  violently. 

Lord  Bl.  Verbena,  tell  me,  you  cannot  really  prefer  that 
seedy  snob  in  the  burst  boots  to  me? 

Verh.  (aside).  How  can  I  tell  him  the  truth  without  betray- 
ing dear  Papa?  No,  I  must  lie,  though  it  kills  me.  (To  Lord 
B.)  Lord  Bleshugh,  I  have  been  trifling  with  you.  I — I 
never  loved  you. 

L 


14G  MR.    PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIC  HALL. 

Lord  B.  I  see,  and  all  the  while  your  heart  was  given  to  a 
howling  cad  ? 

Verb.  And  if  it  was,  who  can  account  for  the  vagaries  of 
a  girlish  fancy!  We  women  are  capricious  beings,  you  know. 
(With  hysterical  gaiety.)  But  you  are  unjust  to  Mr.  Spiker 
— he  has  not  yet  howled  in  my  presence — (aside) — though  I 
very  nearly  did  in  his  I 

Lord  B.  And  you  really  love  him? 

Verh.  I— I  love  him.     {Aside.)     My  heart  will  break  ! 

Lord  B.  Then  I  have  no  more  to  say.  Farewell,  Verbena ! 
Be  as  happy  as  the  knowledge  that  you  have  wrecked  one  of 
the  brightest  careers,  and  soured  one  of  the  sweetest  natures 
in  the  county,  will  permit.  ( Goes  iq^  stage,  and  returns.)  A 
few  days  since  you  presented  me  with  a  cloth  pen-wiper,  in 
the  shape  of  a  dog  of  unknown  breed.  If  you  will  kindly 
wait  here  for  half-an-hour,  I  shall  have  much  pleasure  in 
returning  a  memento  which  I  have  no  longer  the  right  to 
retain,  and  there  are  several  little  things  I  gave  you  which  I 
can  take  back  with  me  at  the  same  time,  if  you  will  have  them 
put  up  in  readiness.  [Exit, 

Verbena.  Oh,  he  is  cruel,  cruel !  but  I  shall  keep  the  little 
bone  yard-measure,  and  the  diamond  pig — they  are  all  I  have 
to  remind  me  of  him  ! 


Enter  Spiker,  slightly  intoxicated. 

Spiker.  (throiving  himself  on  sofa  zuithout  seeing  Verb.)  I 
don'  know  how  it  is,  but  I  feel  precioush  shleej)y,  somehow. 
P'raps  I  did  partake  HI'  too  freely  of  Sir  Poshbury's  gen'rous 
Burgundy.  Wunner  why  they  call  it  ** gen'rous" — it  didn't 
give  me  anything — 'cept  a  bloomin'  headache  !  However,  I 
punished  it,  and  old  Poshbury  had  to  look  on  and  let  me. 
He-he !     {Examining  his  hand.)     Who'd  think,   to  look  at 


UNDER    THE   HARROW. 


147 


thish  thumb,  that  there  was  a  real  live  Baronet  squirmin' 
under  it.     But  there  ish  !  [Snores. 

Verb,  (bitterly).  And  that  thing  is  my  affianced  husband  ! 
Ah,  no  I  cannot  go  through  with  it,  he  is  too  repulsive  !  If 
I  could  but  find  a  way  to  free  myself  without  compromising 
poor  Papa.    The  sofa-cushion !    Dare  I  ?  It  would  be  quite 


--_^. 


S piker  si^iked. 


painless  .  .  .  Surely  the  removal  of  such  an  odious  wretch 
cannot  be  Murder  .  .  .  I  will!  {Sloiv  music.  She  gets  a 
cushion,  and  presses  it  tiffhtly  over  Spiker's  head.)  Oh,  I 
wish  he  wouldn't  gurgle  like  that,  and  how  he  does  kick  ! 
He  cannot  even  die  like  a  gentleman  1  (Spiker's  kicks  become 
more  and  more  feeble  and  eventually  cease.  )  How  still  he 
lies !  I  almost  wish  .  .  .  Mr.  Spiker,  Mr.  Spi-ker !  .  .  no 
answer — oh,  I  really  have  suffocated  him !  (Enter  Sir  Posh.) 
You,  Papa? 

Sir  Posh.    What,  Verbena,  sitting  with,  hem — Samuel  in 

L   2 


148  MB.    PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIC  HALL. 

the  gloaming  ?  (Sings  tvith  forced  hilarity.)  *'In  the  gloam- 
ing, oh,  my  darling !  "  that's  as  it  should  be — quite  as  it 
should  be ! 

Verb,  (in  dull  strained  accents).  Don't  sing,  Papa,  I  can- 
not bear  it — ^just  yet.  I  have  just  suffocated  Mr.  Spiker  with 
a  sofa-cushion.     See  !  [Shows  the  body. 

Sir  Posh.  Then  I  am  safe — he  will  tell  no  tales  now !  But, 
ny  child,  are  you  aware  of  the  very  serious  nature  of  your  act  ? 
^n  act  of  which,  as  a  Justice  of  the  Peace,  I  am  bound  tO' 
'sake  some  official  cognizance  ! 

Verb.  Do  not  scold  me,  Papa.   Was  it  not  done  for  your  sake  ? 

Sir  P.  I  cannot  accept  such  an  excuse  as  that.  I  fear  your 
motives  were  less  disinterested  than  you  would  have  me  be^ 
lieve.  And  now.  Verbena,  what  will  yo2i  do  ?  As  your  father, 
I  would  gladly  screen  you — but,  as  a  Magistrate,  I  cannot 
promise  to  be  more  than  passive. 

Verb.  Listen,  Papa.  I  have  thought  of  a  plan — why 
should  I  not  wheel  this  sofa  to  the  head  of  the  front-door 
steps,  and  tip  it  over?  They  will  only  think  he  fell  down 
when  intoxicated — for  he  had  taken  far  too  much  wine,  Papa ! 

Sir  P.  Always  the  same  quick-witted  little  fairy !  Go^ 
my  child,  but  be  careful  that  none  of  the  servants  see  you. 
(Verb,  luheels  the  sofa  and  Spiker's  body  out,  l.u.e.)  My 
poor  impulsive  darling,  I  do  hope  she  will  not  be  seen — 
servants  do  make  such  mischief!  But  there's  an  end  of 
Spiker,  at  any  rate.  I  should  not  have  liked  him  for  a  son- 
in-law,  and  with  him,  goes  the  only  person  who  knows  my 
unhappy  secret ! 

Enter  Blethers. 

Blethers.  Sir  Poshbury,  I  have  a  secret  to  reveal  which  I 
can  preserve  no  longer — it  concerns  something  that  hap- 
pened many  years  ago — it  is  connected  with  your  birthday. 
Sir  Poshbury. 


UNDER    THE   HARROW.  149 


Sir  P.  {q^iailing).  What,  a7iother/  I  must  stop /izs  tongue 
at  all  hazards.  Ah,  the  rotten  sash-line  !  (To  Blethers.)  I 
will  hear  you,  hut  first  close  yonder  window,  the  night-air 
is  growng  chill. 

[Blethers  goes  to  windoiv  at   back.     Slow    music.     As  he 
approaches  it,  Lord  Bleshugh  enters  (r  2  e),  and,  tvith  a 
smothered  cry  of  horror,  drags  him  hack  hij  the  coat-tails 
—just  before  the  window  falls  ivith  a  tremendous  crash. 
Sir  P.  Bleshugh  !    What  have  you  done  ? 
Lord  Blesh.  (sternly).  Saved  him  from  an  untimely  end — 
and  you  from — crime  ! 

Collapse  of  Sir  P.     Enter  Verbena,  terrified. 

Verb.  Papa,  Papa,  hide  me  !  The  night-air  and  the  cold 
«tone  steps  have  restored  Mr.  Spiker  to  life  and  conscious- 
ness !  He  is  coming  to  denounce  me — you — both  of  us  !  He 
is  awfully  annoyed  ! 

Sir  P.  (recklessly).  It  is  useless  to  appeal  to  me,  child. 
I  have  enough  to  do  to  -look  after  myself— now.      . 

[Enter  Spiker,  indignant. 

Spiker.  Pretty  treatment  for  a  gentleman,  this!  Look 
here,  Poshbury,  this  young  lady  has  choked  me  with  a 
cushion,  and  then  pitched  me  down  the  front  steps — I  might 
have  broken  my  neck. 

Sir  P.  It  was  an  oversight  which  I  lament,  but  for  which 
I  must  decline  to  be  answerable.  You  must  settle  your 
differences  with  her. 

Spiker.  And  you  too,  old  horse !  You  had  a  hand  in  this, 
I  know,  and  I'll  pay  you  out  for  it  now.  My  life  ain't  safe  if  I 
marry  a  girl  like  that,  so  I've  made  up  my  mind  to  split 
and  be  done  with  it ! 

Sir  P.  {contemptuously).  If  you  don't,  Blethers  ivilL  So 
do  your  worst,  you  hound ! 

Spiker.  Very  well  then  ;  I  will.    {To  the  rest.)    I  denounce 


150  MR.    PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIC  HALL. 


this  man  for  travelling  with  a  half- ticket  from  Edgware  Eoad 
to  Baker  Street  on  his  thirteenth  birthday,  the  Slst  of  March 
twenty-seven  years  ago  this  very  day  !  [Sensation. 

Blethers.  Hear  me  !  It  was  not  his  thirteenth  birthday ; 
Sir  Poshbury's  birthday  falls  on  the  1st  of  April — to- 
morroivf  I  was  sent  to  register  the  birth,  and,  by  a 
blunder,  which  I  have  repented  bitterly  ever  since,  unfor- 
tunately gave  the  wrong  date.  Till  this  moment  I  have  never 
hud  the  manliness  or  sincerity  to  confess  my  error,  for  fear 
of  losing  my  situation. 

Sir  P.  {to  Spikek).  Do  you  hear,  you  paltry  knave  ?  I  was 
not  thirteen.  Consequently,  I  was  under  age,  and  the  Bye- 
laws  are  still  unbroken.  Your  hold  over  me  is  gone — gone 
for  ever ! 

Sjnker.  H'm — Spiker  spiked  this  time  ! 

[Retires  up  disconcerted. 

Lord  Bl.  And  you  did  not  really  love  him,  after  all.  Verbena  ? 

Verh.  {with  arch  pride).  Have  I  not  proved  my  in- 
difference ? 

Lord  BL  But  I  forget — you  admitted  that  you  were  but 
trifling  with  my  affection — take  back  your  pin-cushion  ! 

Verh.  Keep  it.   All  that  I  did  was  done  to  spare  my  father  ! 

Sir  Posh.  Who,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  was  innocent — but  I 
forgive  you,  child,  for  your  unworthy  suspicions.  Bleshugh, 
^y  ^oy?  yo^  li^'^'©  saved  me  from  unnecessarily  depriving 
myself  of  the  services  of  an  old  retainer.  Blethers,'!  condone  a 
dissimulation  for  which  you  have  done  much  to  atone.  Spiker, 
you  vile  and  miserable  rascal,  be  off,  and  be  thankful  that  I  have 
sufficient  magnanimity  to  refrain  from  giving  you  in  charge. 
(Spiker  sneaks  off  crushed.)  And  now,  my  children,  and  my 
faithful  old  servant,  congratulate  me  that  I  am  no  longer 

Verbena  and  Lord  Bleshugh  {together).  Under  the  Harrow  ! 

[Affecting  Family  Tableau  and  quick  Curtain. 


x.-TOMMY  AND  HIS  SISTER  JANE 


ONCE  more  we  draw  upoD 
our  favourite  source  of  in- 
spiration— the  poems  of 
the  Misses  Taylor.  The 
dramatist  is  serenely  con- 
fident that  the  new  London 
County  Council  Censor  of 
Plays,  whenever  that 
much-desired  official  is 
appointed,  will  highly  ap- 
prove of  this  little  piece 
on  account  of  the  multi- 
plicity of  its  morals.  It 
is  intended  to  teach, 
amongst  other  useful  les- 
sons, that — as  the  poem 
on  which  it  is  founded 
puts  it — "Fruit  in  lanes 
is  seldom  good " ;  also, 
that  it  is  not  always  prudent  to  take  a  hint :  again,  that 
constructive  murder  is  distinctly  reprehensible,  and  should 
never  be  indulged  in  by  persons  who  cannot  control  their 
countenances  afterwards.  Lastly,  that  suicide  may  often  be 
averted  by  the  exercise  of  a  little  savoir  vivre. 


Tommy  and  Jane. 


152  MR.    PUNCH'S   MODEL    MUSIC  HALL. 


TOMMY    AND    HIS    SISTER    JANE. 

Chabacters. 

Tommy  and  his  Sister  Jane  {Taylorian  Twins,  and  awful  examples). 
Their  Wicked  Uncle  (plagiarised  from  a  forgotten  Nursery  Story,  and 

slightly  altered). 
Old  Farmer  Copeer  {skilled  in  the  use  of  liorse  and  cattle  medicines). 

Scene — A  shady  lane  ;  on  the  right,  a  gate,  leading  to  the 
farm  ;  left,  some  hushes,  covered  ivith  i^racticahle  scarlet 
berries. 

Enter  the  Wicked  Uncle,  stealthily. 

The  W.  U.     No  peace  of  mind  I  e'er  shall  know  again 
Till  I  have  cooked  the  geese  of  Tom  and  Jane  ! 
But — though  a  naughty — I'm  a  nervous  nunky, 
For  downright  felonies  I'm  far  too  funky ! 
I'd  hire  assassins — but  of  late  the  villains 
Have  raised  their  usual  fee  to  fifteen  shillin's  ! 
Nor,  to  reduce  their  rates,  will  they  engage 
{Sympathetically)  For  two  poor  orphans  who  are  under  age  ! 
80  (as  I'd  give  no  more  than  half  a  guinea) 
I  must  myself  get  rid  of  Tom  and  Jenny. 
Yet,  like  an  old  soft-hearted  fool,  I  falter, 
And  can't  make  up  my  mind  to  risk  a  halter. 
{Looking  off.)  Ha,  in  the  distance,  Jane  and  little  Tom  I  see ! 
These  berries — {meditatively) — why,  it  only  needs  diplomacy. 
Ho-ho,  a  most  ingenious  experiment  ! 

[Indulges  in  silent  and  sinister  mirth,  as  Jane  and  Tom 
tri})  in,  and  regard  him  icith  innocent  wonder. 


TOMMY   AND    HIS   SISTEB    JANE.  153 

Jane.     Uncle,  what  is  the  joke  ?  Why  all  this  merriment? 
The   W,    TJ.   {ill  guilty  confusion).     Not   merriment,  my 
loves — a  trifling  spasm — 
Don't  be  alarmed — your  Uncle  often  has  'em  ! 
I'm  feeling  better  than  I  did  at  first — 
you're  looking  flushed,  though  not,  I  hope,  with  thirst  ? 

[Insidionsli/. 

Song,  hy  the  Wicked  Uncle. 

The  sun  is  scorching  overhead ; 

The  roads  are  dry  and  dusty ; 
And  here  are  berries,  ripe  and  red, 

Refreshing  when  you're  thusty  ! 
They're  hanging  just  within  your  reach. 

Inviting  you  to  clutch  them  ! 
But — as  your  Uncle — I  beseech 

You  w^on't  attempt  to  touch  them  ? 

Tommy   and   Jane    {dutifully).     We'll   do    whatever   you 
beseech,  and  not  attempt  to  touch  them  ! 

{Annoyance  ofW.  U. 

The  W.  U.     Temptation  (so  I've  understood) 

A  child,  in  order  kept,  shuns  ; 
And  fruit  in  lanes  is  seldom  good 

(With  several  exceptions). 
However  freely  you  partake. 

It  can't — as  you  are  young — kill. 
But  should  it  cause  a  stomach-ache — 

Well,  don't  you  blame  your  Uncle  ! 

Tommy  and  Jane.     No,  should  it  cause  a  stomach-ache, 
we  will  not  blame  our  Uncle ! 


154  MB.    PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIC  HALL. 

The  W,    U.   {aside).     They'll   need   no   further   personal 

assistance, 
But  take  the  bait  when  I  am  at  a  distance. 
I  could  not,  were  I  paid  a  thousand  ducats, 
(With  sentiment)     Stand  by,  and  see  them  kick  their  little 

buckets, 
Or  look  on  while  their  sticks  this  pretty  pair  cut ! 

[Stealing  off. 
Tommy,     What,  Uncle,  going  ? 
The  W,  U.  [tvith  assumed  jauntiness).   Just  to  get  my  hair 

cut !  [Goes, 

Tommy  {looking  ivistfuUy  at  the  berries).   I  say,  they  do  look 

nice,  Jane,  such  a  lot  too  ! 
Jane  {demurely).     Well,  Tommy,  Uncle  never  told  us  not 

to. 

[Slow  music ;  they  gradually  aj^proaeli  the  berries,  which 
they  pick  and  eat  ivith  increasing  relish,  cidminating 
in  a  dance  of  delight. 

Duet — Tommy  and  Jane  {until  step-dance). 

Tommy  {dancing y  with  his  mouth  full).  These  berries 
ain't  so  bad — although  they've  far  too  much  acidity. 

Jane  {ditto).  To  me,  their  only  drawback  is  a  dash  of 
insipidity. 

Tommy  {rudely).  But,  all  the  same,  you're  wolfing  'em 
with  wonderful  avidity  ! 

Jane  (indignantly).     No,  that  I'm  not,  so  there  now  ! 

Tommy  {calmly).  But  you  are  ! 

Jane.  And  so  are  you  ! 

[They  retire  up,  dancing,  and  eat  more  berries — after 
which  they  gaze  thoughtfully  at  each  other. 


TOMMY   AND   HIS   SISTER   JANE.  155 

Jaiie.     This  fruit  is  most  refreshing — but  it's  curious  how 

it  cloys  on  you  ! 
Tommy  {icith  anxiety).     I   wonder   why   all  appetite  for 

dinner  it  destroys  in  you  ! 
Jane,     Oh,    Tommy,    aren't   you   half  afraid    you've    ate 

enough  to  poison  you  ? 
Tommy,     No,  that  I'm  not — so  there  now  !  &c.,  &c. 

[They  dance  as  before. 

Tommy,     Jane,    is   your   palate  parching   up  in  horrible 

aridity  ? 
Jane,    It   is,    and   in   my   throat's   a    lump    of    singular 

solidity. 
Tommy.     Then   that   is   why   you're    dancing   with  such 

pokerlike  rigidity. 

[Refrain  as  before;  they  dance  with  decreasing  spirit ^ 
and  finally  stop,  and  fan  one  another  with  their 
hats, 

Jane.     I'm  better  now  that  on  my  brow  there  is  a  little 

breeziness. 
Tommy.   My  passing  qualm  is  growing  calm,  and  tightness 

turns  to  easiness. 
Jane.     You    seem   to  me   tormented   by   a    tendency    to 

queasiness  ? 

[Refrain;  they  attempt  to  continue  the  dance — but 
suddenly  sit  down  side  by  side. 

Jane  {with  a  gasp),     I  don't  know  what  it  is — but,  oh,  I 

do  feel  so  peculiar  ! 
Tommy  {icith  a  gulp),     I've  tumults  taking  place  within 
that  I  may  say  unruly  are. 


156  MR.    PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIC  HALL. 

Jane.     Why,  Tommy,  you  are  turning  green — you  really 

and  you  truly  are  ! 
Tommy.     No,  that  I'm  not,  so  there  now  ! 
Jane.  But  you  are  ! 

Tommy.  And  so  are  you  ! 

[Melancholy  music;  to  which  Tommy  and  Jane,  after 
a  few  convulsive  movements,  gradually  become  in- 
animate. Enter  old  Farmer  Copeer  from  gate, 
carrying  a  large  bottle  labelled  **  Cattle  Medicine.'* 

Farmer  C.     It's  time  I  gave  the  old  bay  mare  her  drench. 

[Stumbles  over  the  children, 

W^hat's  here  ?     A  lifeless  lad  ! — and  little  wench  ! 
Been  eating  berries — where  did  they  get  them  idees  ? 
For  cows,  when  took  so,  I've  the  reg'lar  remedies. 
I'll  try  'em  here — and  if  their  state  the  worse  is. 
Why,  they  shall  have  them  balls  I  give  my  'erses  ! 

[Carries  the  bodies  off  just  before  the  W.  U.  re-enters. 

W.  U.     The  children — gone?  yon  bush  of  berries  less  full ! 
Hooray,  my  little  stratagem's  successful ! 

[Dances  a  triumiAajit  pas  seul.   Re-enter  Farmer  C. 

Farmer    C.     Been    looking    for    your    little    niece    and 
nephew  ? 

TJie  W.  U.     Yes,  searching  for  them  everywhere — 
Farmer  C.  {ironically).  Oh,  hev'  you? 

Then  let  me  tell  you,  from  all  pain  they're  free.  Sir. 

TJie  W.  U.  (falling  on  his  knees).    I  didn't  poison  them — 

it  wasn't  me,  Sir  ! 
Farmer  C.    I  thought  as  much — a  constable  I'll  run  for, 

[Exit, 


TOMMY   AND    HIS   SISTER   JANE.  35^ 


The  W.    U.     My  wretched  nerves  again  !    This  time  I'm 
done  for ! 
Well,  though  I'm  trapped,  and  useless  all  disguise  is. 
My  case  shall  ne'er  come  on  at  the  Assizes  ! 

[Rushes  desperately  to  tree  and  crams  himself  with  the 
remaining  berries,  uliich  produce  an  almost  instan- 
taneous effect.  Re-enter  Tom  and  Jane  from  gate, 
looking  ixde  and  limp.  Terror  of  the  Wicked  Uncle 
as  he  turns  and  recognises  them. 

The  W,  U.  (with  tremidous  politeness).      The   shades   of 
Jane  and  Tommy,  I  presume  ? 

[Re-enter  Fanner  C. 

Jane  and  Tommy  {x>ointing  to  Farmer  C.)     His  Cattle 
Mixtures  snatched  us  from  the  tomh  ! 

The  W.  U.  {with  a  flicker  of  hope).     Why,  then  the  self- 
same drugs  will  ease  my  torments  ! 

Farmer  C.  {chuckling).     Too  late!  they've  drunk  the  lot, 
the  little  vormints  ! 

The  W.  U.  {bitterly).     So  out  of  life  I  must  inglorious 
wriggle, 
Pursued  by  Tommy's  grin,  and  Jenny's  giggle  ! 

[Dies  in  great  agony,  while  Tommy,  Jane,  and  Farmer 
CoPEER  look  on  with  mixed  emotions  as  the  Curtain 
falls. 


xi.-THE    RIVAL   DOLLS. 

*'  Miss  Jenny  and  Polly  liad  each  a  new  dolly." — Vide  Poem. 

Characters. 

Miss  Jenny    .         .    }   By  the  Sisters  Leamak. 
Miss  Polly  .     .    )       ^ 


The  Soldier  Doll 
The  Sailor  Boll 


By  the  Two  Armstrongs. 


Scene — A  Nursery,  Enter  Miss  Jenny  and  Miss  Polly, 
ivho  jjerform  a  blameless  step-dance  ivith  an  improving 
chorus. 

Oh,  isn't  it  jolly  !  we've  each  a  new  dolly, 
And  one  is  a  Soldier,  the  other's  a  Tar ; 

We're  fully  contented  with  what's  heen  presented. 
Such  good  little  children  we  both  of  us  are ! 

[They  dance  up  to  a  ctqyhoard,  from  ivhich  they  bring  out 
tico  large  Dolls,  which  they  place  on  chairs. 

Miss  J.  Dont  they  look  nice  !    Come,  Polly,  let  us  strive 

To  make  ourselves  believe  that  they're  alive  ! 
Miss  P,  {addressing  Sailor  D.).    I'm  glad  you're  mine.     I 

dote  on  all  that's  nautical. 
The  Sailor  D,  {opening  his  eyes  suddenly).  Excuse  me,  Miss, 

your  sister's  more  my  sort  o'  gal. 


THE   RIVAL   BOLLS.  159 

[Kisses  Ms  hand  to  Miss  J.,  icho  shrinks  hack,  shocked 
and  alarmed. 

Miss  J.  Oil,  Polly,  did  you  hear  ?   I  feel  so  shy  ! 
The  Sailor  D.  (with  mild  self-assertion),  I  can  say  "  Pa  "  and 
*'  Ma  " — and  wink  my  eye. 

[Does  so  at  Miss  P.,  icho  runs  in  terror  to  Miss  J.'s 
side. 

Miss  J.  Why,  both  are  showing  signs  of  animation. 
Miss  P.  Who'd  think  we  had  such  strong  imagination ! 
The  Soldier  Doll  (aside  to  the  Sailor  D.).    I  say,  old  fellow, 
we  have  caught  their  fancy — 
In  each  of  us  they  now  a  real  man  see ! 
Let's  keep  it  up  ! 
The  Sailor  D.  {dubiously.)     D'ye  think  as  we  can  do  it  ? 
The  Soldier  D.  You  stick  by  me,  and  I  will  see  you  through 
it. 
Sit  up,  and  turn  your  toes  out, — don't  you  loll  ; 
Put  on  the  Man,  and  drop  the  bloomin'  Doll ! 

[The  Sailor  Doll  2>idls  himself  together,  and  rises  from 
chair  importantly. 

The  Sailor  D.  {in  the  manner  of  a  Music-hall  Chairman) — 
Ladies,  with  your  kind  leave,  this  gallant  gent 
Will  now  his  military  sketch  present. 

[Miss  J.  and  P.  applaud:    the  Soldier  D.,  after  feebly 
expostulatinrj,  is  induced  to  sing. 


160  MR.    PUNCH'S   MODEL    MUSIC  HALL. 

Song,  hy  the  Soldier  Doll. 
When  I  used  to  be  displayed, 
In  the  Burlington  Arcade, 
With  artillery  arrayed 
Underneath. 

Shoulder  Hump 

I  imagine  that  I  made 
All  the  Lady  Dolls  afraid, 
I  should  draw  my  battle-blade 
From  its  sheath, 

Shoulder  Hump 

For  I'm  Mars's  gallant  son, 
And  my  back  I've  shown  to  none, 
Nor  was  ever  seen  to  run 
From  the  strife  ! 

Shoulder  Hump  ! 

Oh,  the  battles  I'd  have  won, 
And  the  dashing  deeds  have  done. 
If  I'd  ever  fired  a  gun 
In  my  life ! 

Shoulder  Hump  ! 

llefrain  {to  he  sung  marching  round  Stage), 
By  your  right  flank.  Wheel ! 
Let  the  front  rank  kneel  ! 
With  the  bristle  of  the  steel 

To  the  foe. 
Till  their  regiments  reel, 
At  our  rattling  peal, 
And  the  military  zeal 
We  show  ! 


THE   RIVAL   DOLLS. 


161 


11 

11 

k  ' 

y\i 

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1 

i 

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m 

i 

^     ^ 

i 

^ 

^ 

n  1 

"  Shoulder  Hump  !  " 

[Repeat,  zvith  the  ichole  company  marching  round  after 
him. 

The  Soldier  Doll.   My  friend  will  next  oblige — this  jolly  Jack 
Tar. 
Will  give  his  song  and  chorus  in  charack-tar  ! 

[Same  business  with  Sailor  D. 


Song,  hy  the  Sailor  Doll. 

In  costume  I'm 

So  maritime, 

You'd  never  suppose  the  fact  is, 

That  with  the  Fleet 

In  Regent  Street, 


162  MB.    PUNCH'S  MODEL  MUSIC  HALL. 

I'd  precious  little  naval  practice  ! 

There  was  saucy  craft, 

Eigged  fore  an'  aft, 

Inside  o'  Mr.  Cre-mer's. 

From  Noah's  Arks  to  Clipper-built  barques, 

Like-wise  mechanical  stea-mers. 

Chorus. 
But  to  navigate  the  Serpentine, 

Yeo-ho,  my  lads,  ahoy ! 
With  clockwork,  sails,  or  spirits  of  wine, 

Yeo-ho,  my  lads,  ahoy  ! 
I  did  respeckfully  decline, 
So  I  was  left  in  port  to  pine. 
Which  wasn't  azj,ctually  the  line 
Of  a  rollicking  Sailor  Boy,  Yeo-ho  ! 
Of  a  rollicking  Sailor  Bo-oy  ! 

Yes,  there  was  lots 
Of  boats  and  yachts, 
Of  timber  and  of  tin,  too ; 
But  one  and  all 
Was  far  too  small 
For  a  doll  o'  my  size  to  get  into 
I  was  too  big 
On  any  brig 

To  ship  without  disas-ter, 
And  it  wouldn't  never  do 
When  the  cap'n  and  the  crew 
Were  a  set  'o  little  swabs  all  plaster  ! 
Chorus — So  to  navigate  the  Serpentine,  &c. 

An  Ark  is  p'raps 
The  berth  for  chaps 


THE   BIVAL   DOLLS.  163 

As  is  fond  o'  Natural  Hist'ry. 

But  I  sez  to  Shem 

And  the  rest  o'  them, 

"  How  you  get  along  at  all's  a  myst'ry ! 

With  a  Wild  Beast  Show 

Let  loose  below, 

And  four  fe-males  on  deck  too  ! 

I  never  could  agree 

With  your  happy  fami-lee, 

And  your  lubberly  ways  I  objeck  to." 

[Chorus.  Hornpipe  by  the  comjxiny,  after  which  the 
Soldier  Doll  advances  condescendingly  to  Miss 
Jenny. 

The  Sold.  D.  Invincible  I'm  reckoned  by  the  Ladies, 

But  yield  to  you — though  conquering  my  trade  is  ! 
Miss  J,  {repulsing  him).    Oh,  go  away,  you  great  conceited 
thing,  you  ! 

[The  Sold.  T>.  persists  in  offering  her  attentions. 

Miss  P.  (watching  them  bitterly).    To  be  deserted  by  one's 
doll  does  sting  you  ! 

[The  Sailor  D.  approaches. 

The  Sailor  D.  {to  Miss  P.)    Let  me  console  you.  Miss,  a 
Sailor  Doll 
As  swears  his  'art  was  ever  true  to  Poll ! 

{N.B. — Good  opportunity  for  Song  here.) 

Miss  P.  {indignantly  to  Miss  J.)   Your  Sailor's  teasing  me  to 
be  his  idol ! 
Do  make  him  stop — {spitefully) — When  youVe  quite  done 
with  my  doll ! 


164  MR.    PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIC  HALL. 

Miss  J.  (scornfully.)    If  you  suppose  I  want  your  wretched 
warrior, 
I'm  sorry /or  you  ! 
Miss  P.  I  for  you  am  sorrier. 

Miss  J.  (weeping,  n.).  Polly  preferred  to  me — what  ignominy  ! 
Miss  P.  (weeping,  l.).  My  horrid  Soldier  jilting  me  for  Jenny  ! 

[The  two  Dolls  face  one  another,  c. 

Sailor  B.  (to  Soldier  D.).  You've  made  her  sluice  her  sky- 
lights now,  you  swah ! 

Soldier  D.  (to  Sailor  D.).  As  you  have  hroke  her  heart,  I'll 
hreak  your  noh  !  [Hits  him. 

Sailor  D.  (in  a  pale  fury).  This  insult  must  he  hlotted  out 
in  hran  ! 

Soldier  D.  (fiercely).  Come  on,  I'll  shed  your  sawdust — if  I 
can  ! 

[Miss  J.  a7id  P.  throw  themselves  between  the  combatants. 

Miss  J,    For  any  mess  you  make  we  shall  be  scolded, 
So  wait  until  a  drugget  we've  unfolded ! 

[They  lay  down  drugget  on  Stage. 

The  Soldier  D.  (politely).  No  hurry,  Miss,  we  don't  object 
to  waiting. 

The  Sailor  D.  (aside).  His  valour — like  my  own — 's  evaporat- 
ing ! 

(Defiantly  to  Soldier  D.).  On  guard  !  You'll  see  how  soon 
I'll  run  you  through  ! 

(Confidentially,)     (If  you  will  not  prod  m^,  I  won't  pink  yon.) 

The  Soldier  D.  Through  your  false  kid  my  deadly  blade  I'll 
pass! 

(Confidentially.)    (Look  here,  old  fellow,  don't  you  be  a  hass  !) 

[They  exchange  passes  at  a  considerable  distance. 


THE   RIVAL   DOLLS.  165 

The  Sailor  D.  (aside).    Don't  lose  your  temper  now  ! 

Sold,  D,  Don't  get  excited. 

Do  keep  a  little  farther  off  I 
Sail,  D,  Delighted  ! 

[Wounds  Soldier  D.  by  misadventure. 
Sold.  D,  (annoyed).    There  now,  you've  gone  and  made  upon 

my  wax  a  dent ! 
Sail,  D,    Excuse  me,  it  was  really  quite  an  accident. 
Sold.  D,  (savagely).    Such  clumsiness  would  irritate  a  saint ! 

[Stabs  Sailor  Doll. 
Miss  J,  and  P,  (imploringly).    Oh,  stop!    the  sight  of  saw- 
dust turns  us  faint  ! 

[They  drop  into  chairs,  swooning. 

Sail.  D.    I'll  pay  you  out  for  that ! 

[Stabs  Soldier  D. 

Sold.  D,  Right  through  you've  poked  me  ! 

Sailor  D,    So  you  have  me  ! 

Sold,  D.  You  shouldn't  have  provoked  me ! 

[They  fall  transfixed. 

Sailor  D.  (faintly) .    Alas,  we  have  heen  led  away  hy  vanity. 

Dolls  shouldn't  try  to  imitate  humanity  !  [Dies. 

Soldier  D.    For,  if  they  do,  they'll  end  like  us,  unpitied, 

Each  on  the  other's  sword  absurdly  spitted  ! 

[Dies.     Miss  J.  and  P.  revive,  and  bend  sadly  over  the 
corpses. 

Miss  Jenny,    From  their  untimely  end  we  draw  this  moral, 
How  wrong  it  is,  even  for  dolls,  to  quarrel ! 

Miss  Polly,    Yes,  Jenny,  in  the  fate  of  these  poor  fellows  see 
What  sad  results  may  spring  from  female  jealousy ! 

[They  embrace  yenitently  as  Curtain  falls. 


XII. 

CONRAD ;  OR,  THE  THUMBSUCKER. 

{Adapted  freely  from  a  icell-knoivn  Poem  in  the 
**  Struwtvelpeter,") 

Chaeacters. 

Conrad  {aged  6). 

Conrad's  Mother  (47). 

The  Scissorman  {age  immaterial). 

Scene — A71  Apartment  in  the  house  of  Conrad's  Mother, 
tvindoiv  in  centre  at  hack,  opening  upon  a  quiet  thorough- 
fare. It  is  dusk,  and  the  room  is  lighted  only  by  the  re- 
flected gleam  from  the  street-lamps.  Conrad  discovered 
half-hidden  by  left  tviyidow- curtain. 

Conrad  {imtching  street).     Still  there !     For  full  an  hour 
he  has  not  budged 
Beyond  the  circle  of  yon  lamp-post's  rays  ! 
The  gaslight  falls  upon  his  crimson  hose, 
And  makes  a  steely  glitter  at  his  thigh, 
While  from  the  shadow  peers  a  hatchet-face 
And  fixes  sinister  malignant  eyes — 

On  whom  ?  {Shudder i7ig.)     I  dare  not  trust  myself  to  guess 
And  yet — ah,  no — it  cannot  be  myself  ! 
I  am  so  young — one  is  still  young  at  six ! — 
What  man  can  say  that  I  have  injured  him  ? 
Since,  in  my  Mother's  absence  all  the  day 
Engaged  upon  Municipal  affairs, 


CONBAD;    OR,    THE    THUMBSUCKEB.  167 

I  peacefully  beguile  the  weary  hours 
By  suction  of  consolatory  thumbs. 

[Here  he   inserts  his  thumb  in  his  mouthy  hut  almost 
instantly  removes  it  u'ith  a  start.) 
Again  I  meet  those  eyes  !     Ill  look  no  more — 
But  draw  the  blind  and  shut  my  terror  out. 

[Draivs  hlincl  and  lights  candle  ;  Stage  lightens, 
Heigho,  I  wish  my  Mother  were  at  home  ! 
{Listening,)     At  last !     I  hear  her  latch-key  in  the  door  ! 

[Enter  Conrad's  Mother,  a  lady  of  strong-minded  appear- 
ance,  rationally  attired.     She  carries  a  large  reticule 
full  of  documents. 
Conrad's  M,  Would,  Conrad,  that  you  were  of  riper  years, 
So  you  might  share  your  Mother's  joy  to-day, 
The  day  that  crowns  her  long  and  arduous  toil 
As  one  of  London's  County  Councillors  ! 

Conrad,     Nay,  speak  ;  for  though  my  mind  be  immature. 
One  topic  still  can  charm  my  infant  ear, 
That  ever  craves  the  oft-repeated  tale. 
I  love  to  hear  of  that  august  assembly 

[His  Mother  lifts  her  bonnet  solemnly. 

In  which  my  Mother's  honoured  voice  is  raised  ! 

C'sM.  (gratified).     Learn,  Conrad,  then,  that,  after  many 
months 
Of  patient  "  lobbying  "  (you've  heard  the  term  ?) 
The  measure  by  my  foresight  introduced 
Has  triumphed  by  a  bare  majority  ! 

Con.     My  bosom  thrills  with  dutiful  delight — 
Although  I  yet  for  information  wait 
As  to  the  scope  and  purpose  of  the  statute. 

C.'s  M,     You  show  an  interest  so  intelligent 
That  well  deserves  it  should  be  satisfied, 


168  MB.    PUNCH'S   MODEL   MUSIC  HALL. 

Be  seated,  Conrad,  at  your  Mother's  knee, 
And  you  shall  hear  the  full  particulars. 
You  know  how  zealously  I  advocate 
The  sacred  cause  of  Nursery  Reform  ? 
How  through  my  efforts  every  infant's  toys 
Are  carefully  inspected  once  a  month ? 

Con.  {ivearily).     Nay,  Mother,  you  forget — I  have  no  toys. 

O.'s  M.     Which  brings  you  under  the  exemption  clause. 
But — to  resume  ;  how  Nursery  Songs  and  Tales 
Must  now  be  duly  licensed  by  our  Censor, 
And  any  deviation  from  the  text 
Forbidden  under  heavy  penalties  ? 
All  that  you  know.     Well ;  with  concern  of  late, 
I  have  remarked  among  our  infancy 
The  rapid  increase  of  a  baneful  habit 
On  which  I  scarce  can  bring  my  tongue  to  dwell. 

[The  Stage  darker  ;  blind  at  hack  illuminated. 
Oh,  Conrad,  there  are  children — think  of  it ! — 
So  lost  to  every  sense  of  decency 
That,  in  mere  wantonness  or  brainless  sloth. 
They  obstinately  suck  forbidden  thumbs  ! 

[Conrad  starts  loith  irrcj^ressible  emotion. 
Forgive  me  if  I  shock  your  innocence  ! 
(Sadly.)     Such  things  exist — but  soon  shall  cease  to  be, 
Thanks  to  the  measure  we  have  passed  to-day  ! 

Con.  (with  g^'owing  uneasiness).      But  how  can  statutes 
check  such  practices  ? 

C.'s  M.  (j)atting  his  head).     Bight  shrewdly  questioned, 
boy  !     I  come  to  that. 
Some  timid  sentimentalists  advised 
Compulsory  restraint  in  woollen  gloves, 
Or  the  deterrent  aid  of  bitter  aloes. 
I  saw  the  evil  had  too  deep  a  seat 


CONEAD;    OB,    THE    THUMBSUCKER.  109 

To  yield  to  such  half-hearted  remedies. 

No  ;  we  must  cut,  ere  we  could  hope  to  cure  ! 

Nay,  interrupt  me  not ;  my  Bill  appoints 

A  new  official,  by  the  style  and  title 

Of  "London  County  Council  Scissorman," 

For  the  detection  of  young  "  suck-a-thuml)s." 

[Here  the  shadow  of  a  hmjc  hand  brandishing  a  gigantiv 
pair  of  shears  appears  upon  the  hlind. 
Con.  {hiding  his  face  in  his  Mothers  lap.)     Ah,  Mother, 

see !  .  .  the  scissors  !  .  .  On  the  blind ! 
C.\s  M.   Why,  how  you  tremble  !    You've  no  cause  to  fear. 
The  shadow  of  his  grim  insignia 
Should  have  no  terror — save  for  thumb-suckers. 
Con.     And  what  for  them  ? 

C.'s  M.  {complacently).     A  doom  devised  by  me — 
The  confiscation  of  the  culprit  thumbs. 
Thus  shall  our  statute  cure  while  it  corrects, 
For  those  who  have  no  thumbs  can  err  no  more. 

[The  shadoiv  slowly  passes  on  the  hlind,  Conrad  appear- 
ing relieved  at  its  departure.  Loud  knocking  ivith- 
out.     Both  start  to  their  feet. 

CJs  M.     Who  knocks  so  loud  at  such  an  hour  as  this  ? 

A  Voice.     Open,  I  charge  ye.     In  the  Council's  name  ! 

C.'s  M.     'Tis  the  Official  Red-legged  Scissorman, 
Who  doubtless  calls  to  thank  me  for  the  post. 

Con.  {with  a  gloomy  determination).     More  like  his  busi- 
ness, Madam,  is  with — Me  ! 

C.'s   M.    {suddenly  enlightened).     A  Suck-a-thumb  ?  .  .  .. 
you,  Conrad  ? 

C.  (desperately).     Ay, — from  birth  ! 

[Profound  silence,  as  Mother  and  Son  face  one  another. 
The  knocking  is  renewed, 

N 


170  2IE,    PUNCH'S   MODEL    MUSIC   HALL. 


C.'s  M.     Ob,  this  is  horrible — it  must  not  be  ! 
I'll  shoot  the  bolt  and  barricade  the  door. 

[Conrad    i^laces   himself    before   it,   and   addresses   his 
Mother  in  a  tone  of  incisive  irony. 
Con.     Why,  where  is  all  the  zeal  you  showed  of  late  ? 
Is't  thus  that  you  the  Roman  Matron  play  ? 
Trick  not  a  statute  of  your  own  devising. 
Come,  your  official's  waiting — let  him  in  ! 

[C's  M.  shrinks  hack  appalled. 
So  ?  you  refuse! — {tlirowing  open  door) — then — enter,  Scissor- 
man  ! 
[Enter  the  Scissorman,  masked  and  in  red  tights,  with 
his  hand  upon  the  hilt  (f  Ids  shears. 
The  S.  {in  a  passionless  tone).     Though  sorry  to  create  un- 
pleasantness, 
I  claim  the  thumbs  of  this  young  gentleman, 
Which  these  own  eyes  have  marked  between  his  lips. 

C's  M.  (frantically).     Thou  minion  of  a  meddling  tyranny. 
Go  exercise  thy  loathsome  trade  elsewhere  ! 

21ie  S.  (civilly).     I've  duties  here  that  must  be  first  per- 
formed. 
C's  M.  (icildly).     Take  my  two  thumbs  for  his  ! 
The  S.  'Tis  not  the  law— 

Which  is  a  model  of  lucidity. 

Cm.    {calmly).     Sir,   you   speak   well.     My  thumbs   are 
forfeited, 
And  they  alone  must  pay  the  penalty. 

The  S.  (witJi  approval).     Right !     Step  with  me  into  the 
outer  hall. 
And  have  the  business  done  without  delay. 

C's   M.    {throwing    herself    between  them.)     Stay,  I'm   a 
Councillor — this  law  was  mine  f 
Hereby  I  do  suspend  the  clause  I  drew. 


CONRAD;    OB,    THE    THUMBSUCKER. 


171 


The  S.     You  should  have  drawn  it  milder. 
Con.  Must  I  teach 

A  parent  laws  were  meant  to  be  obeyed  ? 

[To  Sc]  Lead  on,  Sir.     {To  his  Mother  ivitli  cold  courtesy.) 
Madam, — may  I  trouble  you  ? 


'•My  Conrad!" 

[He  thrusts  her  gently  aside  and  jpasses  out  with  the  Sc. ; 
the  door  is  shut  and  fastened  from   icithout,     C.'s 
M.  rushes  to  door  which  she  attemjits  to  force  uithout 
success. 
C.'s  M.     In  vain  I  batter  at  a  senseless  door, 
I'll  to  the  keyhole  train  my  tortured  car. 

(Listeninr/.)     Dead  silence  !  ...  is  it  over — or,  to  come  ? 
Hark  !  was  not  that  the  click  of  meeting  shears  ?  .  .  . 
Again  !  and  followed  by  the  sullen  thud 
Of  thumbs  that  drop  upon  linoleum  !   .  .  . 


172  ME.    FUNCirS   MODEL    MUSIC  HALL. 


[TJie  door  is  opened  and  Conrad  appears,  pale  hut  erect. 

N.B.  The  icJiole  of  this  scene  has  been  compared  /c>> 
one  in  '^  La  Tosca'' — which,  hoivever,  it  exceeds  i)t 
horror  and  intensity. 
C.'s  M.     They  send  him  back  to  me,  bereft  of  both  ! 
My  Conrad  !     What  ? — repulse  a  Mother's  Arms  ! 

Con.  {with  chilling  composure).     Yes,  Madam,  for  betweeric 
us  ever  more, 
A  barrier  invisible  is  raised. 
And  should  I  strive  to  reach  those  arms  again, 
Two  spectral  thumbs  would  press  me  coldly  back — 
The  thumbs  I  sucked  in  blissful  ignorance, 
The  thumbs  that  solaced  me  in  solitude. 
The  thumbs  your  County  Council  took  from  me, 
And  your  endearments  scarcely  will  replace  ! 
Where,  Madam,  lay  the  sin  in  sucking  them  ? 
The  dog  will  lick  his  foot,  the  cat  her  claw, 
His  paws  sustain  the  hibernating  bear — 
And  you  decree  no  law  to  punish  them  ! 
Yet,  in  your  rage  for  infantine  reform, 
You  rushed  this  most  ridiculous  enactment — 
Its  earliest  victim — your  neglected  son  ! 

CJs  M.  {falling  at  his  feet).     Say,  Conrad,  you  will  some- 
day pardon  me  ? 
Con,  {bitterly,  as  lie  regards  Ids  maimed  hands.)     Aye — on 
the  day  these  pollards  send  forth  shoots ! 

[His  Mother  turns  aside  icith  a  hearthroJicn  wail ;  Con- 
rad standing  apart  in  gloomy  estrangement  as  the 
Curtain  descends. 


BRADBLRV,   AONEW,    &  CO.    LD.,    PRINTERS,    WHITEKRIAR*. 


M 


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